Reckoner
by MiSSxMELON
Summary: "You have an answer for me?" he says, and he gives me that intense look again, as if he's trying to read my mind. "Yes," I say, and I don't know why this feels so terribly wrong, but it does. "My answer is yes." / UPDATED 5/5/13.
1. Eleven

Betrayal.

It's the one thing I feel when Haymitch tells me that Peeta has requested to train separately. And yet what else should I have expected? Just because Peeta and I have started to get along does not change the structure of the game. He is still my enemy, as I am his. He may have helped me in the past, but he cannot help me now.

I think bitterly how this has all happened because of that stupid number. Eleven. I score an eleven and now Peeta is too intimidated to train with me. I don't know what the game makers were thinking, giving me an eleven. It has definitely painted a target on the back of my head. As if the other tributes didn't already hate me. Sure, Haymitch and Effie are excited about it. And maybe it will help me get sponsors. But sponsors don't stop the Career Tributes from targeting and killing you in the Games.

I keep to myself at the shelter station. Peeta isn't here of course. I train in the morning, and he trains in the afternoon. It's better this way. If he doesn't want to work with me, I certainly don't want to work with him.

"Girl on fire," I hear a voice behind me. I'm surprised to see that it's the monstrous boy from District 2.

"What do you want?" I ask, narrowing my eyes. He's not allowed to hurt me, not here.

"That's a pretty impressive score you got," he says casually, folding his arms as he assesses me coolly.

Of course he's here about the eleven. It all goes back to the eleven. If it weren't for the eleven, I would be here training with Peeta, and this Career would not have his attention on me and leave me alone.

"Same to you," I reply just as nonchalantly. Of course, in his case it makes sense why he got a ten.

I don't want to give anything away about myself, and yet I don't want to anger this boy because I know he could rip me in half in a heartbeat. He has reason enough to target and kill me first, and I am not about to fuel that fire.

What he says next is completely unexpected.

"What do you say we work together?" he says. He stares at me intensely, waiting to hear my response.

It takes me aback at first. My mind is still registering what he said, when he sees my confusion and chuckles.

"I'm being serious," he says, misinterpreting my reaction.

In reality, I don't know why he would want to team up with me. Eleven or not, I wouldn't stand a chance against this guy. Even if I had my bow and arrow, I've seen him send a spear through a dummy's heart from fifteen yards. He doesn't need me.

"Who's in your group?" I ask, but I already know. It's Districts 1, 2 and 4. It always is.

"Clove, who's from my district, and Districts 1 and 4," he says, confirming my suspicions.

I've seen Clove and the girl from District 1, but more specifically the way they look at me. I may not have many girl friends, but I can see the jealousy and hatred in their eyes. Nor do I trust this boy; indeed, I am not entirely convinced that this is not a trap, but he doesn't emanate intense loathing the way those girls do.

"Um," I'm about to say 'no thanks,' though I'm sure Haymitch would kill me for turning down this opportunity.

"Think about it," he interrupts me, raising his fingers to my lips before I can reject him.

His close proximity throws me off, and I resist the urge to move his hand away. I don't like how he thinks he can control the situation, and I bet this gesture right here is meant to manipulate me in some way. Well it won't work.

He catches me glancing at Clove and the girl from District 1.

"Don't worry about them," he says, and I nearly laugh in response. As if he can't detect their hatred, as if he hasn't heard them talking about me.

"Right," I snort.

"They're cool with you joining us," he assures me. "They won't do anything."

Except kill me once the pool of tributes shrinks.

He senses my doubt, and I'm sure he realizes I do have reason to mistrust them.

"I'll make sure to keep them in line," he promises.

But what good are promises in the Games? They're all ruthless killers, this boy included, and when push comes to shove, they would choose to kill me first. District 12 is a joke compared to their districts.

"I'll think about it," I say because I want this boy to go away. And I will. I'll talk to Haymitch about it later, while Peeta is training, to see what he thinks. But I know what he's going to say.

"Sure, girl on fire," he winks before strolling away.

* * *

><p>"You have to join them," Haymitch says, just as I predicted he would.<p>

"But those girls are out to get me," I protest. "I don't even entirely trust this boy."

"And you shouldn't," Haymitch agrees. "But you don't understand what you would be doing by rejecting him. He already has his eyes set on you because he thinks you're a threat. If you won't be his ally, you will most certainly be his number one enemy."

"So you're saying I should join him because if I don't, he'll kill me?" I reply worriedly.

I don't bother adding that this won't stop him from killing me either. I didn't want to fuel the fire, but it seems I don't have a choice anymore. I really hate the number eleven.

"Besides, you're wrong you know," Haymitch says. "You would be incredibly useful to them with your bow and arrow. I bet you anything those kids can't hunt. And the girls will leave you alone once they see your skills."

Slim chance. I understand girls better than Haymitch does, and the minute they realize I am better at them at something and that I am indeed a threat, they will hate me more. If that's even possible.

"Join them," Haymitch insists. "But when they start to get antsy with each other, get out. You'll know when, and you'll know how. You have an advantage, Katniss. You're a hunter."

* * *

><p>Once Peeta returns from training, I step out to go back to the Training Center, partly because I want to talk to the boy from District 2, but mostly because I don't want to face Peeta. I'm still infuriated that he's played with my emotions, when I tried so hard to block him out.<p>

I tell myself that I'm doing the right thing, teaming up with the Career Tributes. Peeta would do the same in my place. But for some reason, I don't want him to know. He will eventually, of course. I just don't want to see the look on his face when he realizes that I've joined the Careers. Like he would think differently of me. It shouldn't matter, but it does.

I take the stairs instead of the elevator, and as I round the corner I run into a wall and nearly fall to the ground, but a pair of arms reach out and grab me. It's not a wall; it's the boy from District 2.

"Careful there, girl on fire," he smirks. "Wouldn't want to get injured before the Games."

I glare back at him, not caring if it makes him mad. Instead, his smirk widens.

"Going back to train some more?" he asks.

"No," I say.

"You have an answer for me?" he says, and he gives me that intense look again, as if he's trying to read my mind and see how I got that eleven. I bet anything that'll be one of the first questions he asks me.

"Yes," I say, and I don't know why this feels so terribly wrong, but it does. "My answer is yes."


	2. Triangle

"Yes,"_ I say, and I don't know why this feels so terribly wrong, but it does. "My answer is yes."_

"Good," he says, and he relaxes noticeably.

I can see the tension in his muscles dissipate as he unclenches his fists, but he doesn't stop staring at me. It's unnerving. Was he resisting the urge to kill me if I were to have said no? I'm already becoming paranoid. This isn't a good sign.

"So um what's the plan?" I ask, avoiding his gaze, as an awkward silence falls over us.

It's a dumb question, but I'm the last one to join the group, and I want to know what they've discussed so far.

"Take over the Cornucopia," he shrugs. "Hunt the others."

So there isn't any elaborate plan. This is exactly what the Careers do in the Games.

I nod in assent, but my heart is pumping super fast, and I'm afraid he will hear it and know my fear. I'm terrified of fighting in the bloodbath. Haymitch's original strategy was for me to run away and find a source of water. That was simple enough. Staying in the Cornucopia though could mean my immediate death, even if I have teamed up with the Careers. Simply put, if there isn't a bow and arrow, I'm doomed. And for some reason, I can't picture Clove or the girl from District 1 coming to my rescue when one of the other tributes cuts me down. No one puts their own life at risk to save their ally, no matter how strong the alliance, unless it's for revenge. Even then, there's another self-benefiting purpose, namely taking out your competition. And vengeance won't help me much if I'm dead.

"Well, I'll see you at the interviews," I say, wanting to break off this awkward conversation.

"Might as well walk back together," he says. So much for ending the conversation.

This time, I opt for the elevator, but he still has enough time to ask me.

"So how'd you get that eleven?" he says, watching me curiously, as we wait for the elevator to arrive.

I debate playing down the event, but decide to tell him the truth. I don't see any benefit in lying. He'll end up seeing my talents in the arena anyway, or at least I hope he will.

"The game makers ordered a whole pig and, me being the last person, they were eating and talking instead of paying attention. So I shot an arrow through the apple in the pig's mouth," I say.

He furrows his brow in surprise, obviously not anticipating my answer, and surveys my face to see if I'm joking.

"That's...pretty bold," he admits. He tries to hide it, but I can tell he's impressed, though I'm not sure why. "So you must be quite skilled at archery. That complements my swordsmanship."

Great, so what can't this boy do? He doesn't mention his ability to throw a spear from a long distance, and quite accurately might I add, which means my skills only put me on par with him. It doesn't make sense for him to hide his strengths. There's no chance I'll be underestimating him.

The elevator doors open, and we step in. He presses the number twelve for me, and I'm relieved I don't have to ask. I notice he doesn't press the number to his floor, and then I realize it's somewhat absurd for him to take an elevator to the second floor. He's only walked with me to talk, and I can't fathom why. He already knows my strength and how I got that eleven. If he's looking for weaknesses, I won't reveal any. If he's trying to get close to me, it won't work. I don't get close to anyone, and if I've learned it from the nice baker's son, I certainly won't make the same mistake with this monstrous boy.

Or maybe he's waiting for an explanation.

"I have a lot of experience hunting," I say to back up my claim.

I know this boy has never hunted in his life coming from District 2. They don't go without food like we do. My experience as a hunter should prove to him that I'm useful in other areas, like finding food, and not just killing people. Well, in actuality I have only ever killed animals, but he doesn't need to know that. I don't reveal my breadth of knowledge in finding edible plants, but that will come out in the arena, so long as I survive the fight in the Cornucopia. I want to keep him on his toes.

"Isn't that illegal?" he raises an eyebrow.

To him, I seem to be full of surprises. That's good because I don't want him to think I'm predictable, and I certainly want him to keep believing that we're evenly matched. It will keep those huge hands and muscled arms away from my neck.

"Yeah, but there's no electricity running through the fence, and the Peacekeepers don't care because we sell our game to them in the Hob. It's our black market," I say.

"We?" he asks curiously.

I don't normally dish out personal details, but I suppose to build some sort of camaraderie I might as well. He may trust me more, though he's not naive enough to fully trust me.

"My friend and I," I say, purposely leaving out Gale's name. I don't want him snitching on Gale. Before he has a chance to ask, the elevator doors slide open. "Well, see you tomorrow."

"Sweet dreams, girl on fire," he smirks before pushing the button and closing the doors.

* * *

><p>"<em>Kill her. Go on, kill her."<em>

_I don't know where I am. I'm nowhere. Darkness surrounds me, except for one small ball of light. I follow it and hear the cries of a girl. The light grows until I happen upon the girl, who is curled up in a ball._

"_Kill her. Kill her."_

_I kneel in front of her. There is blood pooled beneath her, but I cannot locate the source. I reach down, my heart racing, and I gently touch her shoulder._

_Suddenly the boy from District 2 is there, next to the girl, whispering to me._

"_Kill her, girl on fire."_

_She lifts her head, and I see her. I recognize her. It's Rue._

I gasp, and nearly fling myself out of bed, startled by my dream. I instinctively touch my face and find that I am drenched in sweat. I feel disturbed, even if it was only a dream, and I crave a cold bath.

It doesn't take long to run a bath in my highly sophisticated powder room, as Effie calls it. I submerge myself in the water and my body shudders involuntarily. I try to rid myself of the image of Rue dying, but I can't.

I don't believe in premonitions, yet a part of me is afraid of my dream. No, not the dream. I'm afraid of what the dream shows – what I could become in the arena. I'm having nightmares because I've joined the Careers, a group of vicious, bloodthirsty killers, and I don't want to become one.

But I have to win – for Prim, for my mother.

And yet when I look at Rue, I see Prim.

I'm not a killer. I can't do it. Or at least, I don't think I can do it. Nor do I want to find out. The boy from District 2, he has it in him. He was made for this. I could never hurt Rue, and when the time comes, hopefully I won't have to.

* * *

><p>After breakfast, I have my interview preparation session with Haymitch.<p>

To say it goes badly is an understatement. Haymitch drinks until he's drunk, gives up and tells me to try not to let the audience see how openly I despise them before storming off and abandoning me. And then, to top things off, Effie comes back in a panicked state, saying that the order of interviews has been reversed this year, and that we're going from last to first.

"What?" Peeta asks, surprised.

I'm also surprised because we've never seen this happen in the history of the Hunger Games, not that I've watched every one.

Haymitch, of course, reacts by laughing loudly.

"I don't see what's funny about this!" Effie says in her offended tone. Most things we do and say offend her and if this were about anything else, I would find her behavior amusing.

"Oh, but it is funny," Haymitch says. "There seems to be some demand in the Capitol to see Katniss's interview first, but little do they know how hopeless it's going to be. They love her now, but once Katniss opens that mouth of hers, that'll change real quick."

I scowl at Haymitch. His pessimism, though expected, is not helping with my nerves.

"I'm sure you'll do fine," Peeta says, but I don't really care what he thinks. According to Haymitch, Peeta has a natural self-deprecating humor, so he's going to fare a lot better than me.

Thankfully, Cinna comes to my rescue.

Though I am more like Haymitch, blunt and difficult to work with, I prefer interacting with Cinna. His calm, encouraging attitude is exactly what I need, especially now in my frenzied state. I show my stress through my downtrodden, unhelpful mood, yet my pessimism-laced answers don't deter Cinna. He understands what I mean to say, even if I don't say it particularly nicely, though I try much harder to be pleasant around him. Cinna comes up with actual solutions, instead of criticizing me like Haymitch does. He tells me to act like I'm talking to Gale and to say whatever pops in my head, even if it's terrible. I'm not entirely convinced that this will work, but a plan is better than nothing. By the end of our session, I am reminded through Cinna that there are still some decent people in the Capitol. Or maybe he's the only one.

Haymitch's last words before I step onto the stage are that at least I'm the first one to be interviewed, so I can set the standard. He doesn't say it, but I can tell he means that I'll set a low bar. Well, I'll prove him wrong.

And I do.

I'm a little rocky at the start, giving curt, clipped responses, when I realize Caesar and the audience want to hear more. And though I'm not comfortable talking about how I felt at the reaping or what I said to Prim to these strangers, who, as Haymitch points out, I openly despise, I do what Cinna says and pretend that I'm talking to Gale. It works.

Trying to subdue my nerves as much as possible, I tap into the same instinct that overcame me at the opening ceremonies. Maybe it's only because of the scale of these events - beyond the blinding lights, which hide the roaring crowd, I am sure there are thousands of people - that I can, for a few moments at least, be someone else - who they want me to be.

I twirl around in the spectacular dress Cinna has created for me; flames, glittering red yellow and orange, seem to lick at my feet, and I am the girl on fire. He is truly an artist. Somehow the crowd roars even louder, and I don't need any more assurance that these people love me. Oh how wrong Haymitch was. My interview has only further fueled their obsession. And yet they haven't the faintest clue how much I detest them and their society, how the very sound of their cheering voices makes me want to vomit because they are essentially eagerly awaiting the violent death of me and the others. The Capitol is an absurd world full of absurd people, and I wish more than anything to return to my district, where no one is cheering this.

"Best of luck, Katniss Everdeen," Caesar finishes our interview, and I am glad to leave.

When I go back to my seat, I can see Clove and the girl from District 1 glaring daggers at me. I'm not even sure if the boy from District 2 can keep those two in line. Girls have a way of stabbing each other behind the back, and in the Games I mean that both figuratively and literally.

Speaking of Mr. District 2, we briefly make eye contact, and, after glancing at me up and down, he gives me a wink. I turn red, and I hope the crowd hasn't noticed our interaction. I know it's his way of unnerving me, and I'm sure those tactics would work on other girls. Even I would describe him as handsome to someone else, but I bear no attraction to him. How could I, when he could potentially be my killer?

Right before I reach my seat, I see Rue, and the image of her dying pops back in my head. She gives me a small smile, and I return it as best I can. I really hope we don't meet each other in the arena.

"Nice dress," Peeta whispers to me when I sit down next to him. "Haymitch was wrong."

"Thanks," I reply.

And then it's Peeta's turn. I smile when the cameras face us and wish Peeta good luck as he stands up and walks to the stage. Haymitch told us to put on a unified front, even though Peeta has chosen to train separately. For some twisted reason, the crowd loves it. But then again, these people have sadistic tastes.

Peeta's interview goes well, which isn't much of a surprise. He's an amiable, sociable person, and he and Caesar hit it off. The crowd genuinely seems to like him, though they're not nearly as crazy as they were with me. I do hope he wins over some sponsors because he will need it more than me.

And then Caesar brings up the subject of girls, piquing my attention. I don't usually care about these matters; I never gossiped back home, but I also didn't have many girlfriends. There's just a good chance I'll know whoever Peeta likes, since our district is fairly small. Though, now that I think about it, I can't recall ever seeing Peeta with another girl. Then again, I'm not in his circle of friends.

Peeta asks Caesar for advice on how to win over this girl he has had a crush on his entire life, and Caesar of course tells him to win the Games because what girl could turn down a victor? I, however, don't believe there is any such girl, since I would have seen him with her at some point, but I suppose it's a smart angle to play. Anything to get some sponsors.

"I don't think it's going to work out. Winning….won't help in my case," Peeta says, hesitating.

"Why ever not?" says Caesar, and I, too, am mystified.

"Because…because she came here with me," Peeta says.

I blink as the words replay in my head.

_She came here with me._

I don't believe it.

Peeta is talking about _me?_ I look up in horror to see my face on the screens, magnified so that all can tell that I am just as surprised as they are. But I can't reveal my emotions, not now, even though I'm furious at Peeta for putting me on the spot like that. What is he playing at?

I try to be as stone-faced as possible and keep my eyes trained on the floor. I'm positive that the cameras are still focused on Peeta and me; even the other tributes, who normally could care less about the interviews, are staring at us.

Peeta and Caesar exchange a few more remarks, and I am glad that the focus is back on them, at least momentarily. I can tell that, while Caesar is great at putting on a show, he is actually pained by this revelation. I'll give it to Peeta. The crowd is shocked and saddened, crushed even, and several people cry out in agony. How strange that this is where they draw the line. Sending teenagers to fight to the death is pure entertainment for them, but if they're in love, all of a sudden it's sad. As if we don't all have people we care about and who care about our wellbeing. Yet even their pity right now is worthless to me. These Capitol people aren't going to do anything, except watch our tragic end in anticipation.

And then the audience is screaming again for me to come back on stage, but Caesar tells them that rules are rules, and my time has been spent. Thank goodness because I don't know what I would say. I would probably kill the crowd's energy and excitement with my more than lackluster feelings. This isn't the place for romance. We're about to fight to the death. Peeta has only made me appear weak.

"Well, best of luck to you, Peeta Mellark, and I think I speak for all of Panem when I say our hearts go with yours," Caesar says, ending his interview with Peeta.

I avoid eye contact with Peeta when he returns to his seat because I'm afraid of revealing my emotions and looking vulnerable. Though it's time for District 11's interviews, the camera keeps panning over us. We are the center of attention, the obsession of the Capitol. Our interviews certainly exceeded expectations. I only wanted to get my interview over with so I could relax, but with Peeta's little stunt, that's not going to happen. Instead, I try to act like I am paying close attention to the other interviews. Maybe then the cameras will leave me alone.

I do listen attentively to Rue's interview, and I admire her courage. Rue points out that it will be difficult for others to catch her, and Caesar agrees encouragingly.

Her male counterpart, Thresh, however, is the complete opposite of her, both physically and personality-wise. He broods silently and is as unsociable as it gets. In fact, that's probably why I've forgotten about him. He always keeps to himself. But in all honesty, I think Thresh is the one who will win. I wonder why he isn't part of our alliance, when he's the biggest person here. I'll be sure to ask later.

The other interviews are not nearly as interesting. The fox-faced girl from District 5 plays the cleverness card; her strength is her intelligence, which allows her to be sly and elusive. I don't think she'll gain any sponsors, though. That's only useful if you can remain hidden, and she's not nearly as small as Rue. If there is any kind of confrontation, she won't make it.

And then District 2 is up, and I finally learn his name. Cato.

His angle, of course, is that he's a ruthless killing machine. He will undoubtedly receive the most sponsors out of all of us because he is the most capable fighter and, unlike Thresh, he is also personable. He and I are the only ones who volunteered to be in the Games, but for very different reasons. He has trained his entire life for this, and he wants to be here.

But then Caesar poses the same question as he did to Peeta, asking if he has a girl back home. I'm sure the audience is dying to know.

"No, but I have gotten close to someone here," Cato says.

"Oh really, and who might that be?" Caesar asks, leaning in curiously.

Cato stares straight at me and addresses Peeta.

"I know you may have liked her for a long time, but I've gotten to know Katniss these past few weeks, and I want you to know that I'm going to do whatever it takes to be with her," Cato says with the kind of finality that sends chills down my spine.

I'm not even sure what he means by being with me because it's not like there's any future between me and, well, any other tribute. Only one of us is coming out. It goes without saying that this is not the most ideal place to strike up a romance, and yet two tributes have professed their "love" for me within the past hour. It's making me look like a damsel in distress, and I hate it.

But the crowd loves it, and I can hear their screams and cries. Some are shouting Peeta's name, while others yell Cato's. It takes me a moment to understand what they mean, and by then Caesar is already speaking into the microphone again.

"A love triangle!" he exclaims, and the crowd gasps with him. This must be the most drama they have seen in the Hunger Games and definitely more than they had expected. It's too much for me to handle, and I revert back to my pressed lips and downcast eyes. "I don't think we have ever had one in the history of the Hunger Games. But tell me Cato - Peeta is from the same district as Katniss and has known her his entire life. Do you really think you have a chance with her, and is it wise to develop such feelings now?"

"I can't help how I feel," Cato says solemnly, and Caesar nods in agreement. "And I know we don't have much time together."

Some people in the crowd moan in despair. And then I realize what Cato is about to say, and I'm screaming at him inside my head.

_Don't say it!_

Not here, not in front of the cameras, not in front of Peeta.

"But I definitely have a chance because we're going in this together," Cato continues, staring at me. "Katniss is fighting with _me_."


	3. Dangerous Game

A/N: Thank you to my anonymous reviewers: **Cassie**, **Marie**, **SophieEverdeen**, **Annabeth**, **clovexcato**, and **206thbone**!

* * *

><p>"<em>Katniss is fighting with <em>me_."_

The crowd erupts into a roaring, unintelligible sea, drowning out Caesar's voice with their gasps and cries. The shouts of "Peeta!" and "Cato!" begin again, but the loudest of them all call my name.

Their reaction is a thousand times more intense than mine. My eyes are wide, my mouth agape at Cato's admission. I didn't want any part of this. I don't even know how it all began, but with those words Cato has roped me into this love entanglement that, up until now, I didn't even know existed.

Did he and Peeta come up with this plan together? Did Cato get me to join the Careers only so he could humiliate me here?

I don't know what to do, and I don't know what to say. I'm so very glad that my interview is over with and that I don't have to go back on stage. I hide my beet red face, wishing that the next minute would pass by faster.

The technicians finally turn up Caesar's microphone, and he is able to talk over everyone again.

"Well I daresay you and Katniss do seem to have hit it off," Caesar says, impressed. And then, winking at the crowd: "But I'm sure Peeta hasn't given up yet. You boys will have to fight for her love!"

Everyone screams again, loving the idea of two boys fighting over me, except I don't think they realize that neither one can have me. Or do they expect me to choose one, only to have him sacrifice himself for me? I suppose that would be the kind of love story they would like to see – tragic and full of suffering.

It won't come to that though because I'm sure they're both lying.

"I would ask what your plan to win Katniss's heart is, but alas, we are out of time," Caesar says apologetically, and Cato nods.

The crowd moans in despair, wanting to know more about this love triangle. I, on the other hand, am grateful that, for now at least, the spotlight is gone.

Finally it's time for the last round of interviews from District 1, and I can tell that both tributes are perturbed. The girl manages to throw a nasty look my way as she walks to the stage. The drama between the two boys and me has thrown them off, and it takes them a few moments to kick-off their interview. Throughout the interview, they appear annoyed by the attention we robbed them of; indeed, the crowd shows little interest in their interviews.

I think Cato may have sealed my death sentence with his stunt.

* * *

><p>Once the interviews are over, I rush out so I can be the first one back. I don't want to give anyone an opportunity to talk to me. I see Peeta get in the car behind me; Haymitch, Cinna, Effie and Portia, on the other hand, are far behind. That's good because I want some time alone with Peeta.<p>

When I arrive back on our floor, I pace in the living room and wait for him. I avoided Peeta after the interviews because there were too many prying eyes, and I need privacy when I confront him.

The moment he steps inside, all thoughts of having a civil conversation are thrown out the door, and I'm unable to control my anger. I shove him and he falls back into a table, sending a vase shattering to the ground. I'm not off to a good start, but I don't really care.

"What was that about?" he asks in surprise.

Does he honestly not know why I'm upset?

"Why don't you tell me?" I shout at him. "When did you team up with Cato, huh? Was it yesterday evening or this morning before I got up?"

Peeta gets up and dusts himself off.

"Me?" he says, his eyes sparkling with anger. "I'm not the one who joined the Careers!"

Before I can reply, everyone else enters through the door, interrupting us. Great. So much for privacy.

Effie and Portia look like they are about to faint, and Cinna looks worried, too. Haymitch on the other hand glances between the two of us and raises an eyebrow.

"What happened?" Effie gasps, looking at the shards of porcelain on the floor. "That was a very nice vase! You two are not setting a good example!"

"She's the one who broke it," Peeta says, pointing at me.

All heads turn towards me. Of course I look like the bad guy now.

"What's going on Katniss?" Haymitch turns to me, as if he doesn't know.

"What's going on?" I say hysterically. "Oh, I don't know – Peeta and Cato have been plotting behind my back, and they've just made me look like some damsel in distress!"

"I haven't been working with _Cato_," Peeta says, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

"No, he wasn't part of the plan," Haymitch says, siding with Peeta.

Wait, what? What is Haymitch talking about?

"Plan? What plan?" I say.

"What I said in the interview…that was all my idea," Peeta explains. "Haymitch helped me with it. But I am just as surprised about Cato as you are."

"Oh are you?" I say sarcastically, not believing one word.

"Don't be stupid, Katniss," Haymitch says, annoyed. "You saw out there how much they want you. Peeta just got you all the sponsors you need. You don't look weak – you look desirable."

Cinna walks over and rubs my shoulder, trying to calm me down.

"This was all done to help you two," he says gently.

It takes me a moment to understand what they mean. Now it makes sense. The crowd was going crazy for me, and I undoubtedly have sponsors lining up as we speak. Peeta wasn't trying to hurt me. He was trying to help me. And I just repaid him by shoving him into a table.

But I won't admit it to Haymitch. I can't believe he hid this from me. It's so obvious that Haymitch prefers Peeta to me. He would never help me like that.

"We were supposed to make you two look like star-crossed lovers," Haymitch continues. "But I didn't expect that boy from District 2 to intervene. Seems like he's smarter than he looks."

Effie shakes her head and makes a comment about how rude it was for Cato to speak out to Peeta like that in his interview.

"He is a force to be reckoned with," Cinna nods solemnly.

"What do you mean?" Peeta asks, just as I'm opening my mouth to ask the same thing.

"He wants a cut of the attention, the glory," Haymitch says. "He saw how Peeta single-handedly took every sponsor, and he thought of the only way to get them back – by creating this…this love triangle."

I can tell by the way Haymitch spits out those last two words that he's telling the truth. Cato came up with his speech by himself and on the spot. I suppose it makes sense because I can't see Peeta working with Cato. But then again, just a few days ago I couldn't see myself working with him either.

Like Haymitch said, this shows that Cato is clever, which doesn't bode well for me, since he's physically superior, too.

"If you had told me about your plan, I wouldn't have teamed up with Cato," I say, collapsing on one of the chairs in frustration. Me joining the Careers has ruined Peeta's plan. Now Cato has stolen sponsors from us. Peeta should be the one breaking vases, not me. "What am I supposed to do now?"

Peeta and Haymitch exchange a glance.

"We always wanted you to join the Careers," Haymitch says.

We?

"You…you knew I joined them?" I turn to Peeta, who looks at me guiltily.

All this time I had been terrified of him finding out, and it turns out he knew all along. Why didn't Peeta say something?

I can't believe Haymitch snitched on me the first opportunity he had. It wasn't Peeta and Cato who had been plotting behind my back. It was Peeta and Haymitch.

"You couldn't reject him," Peeta says quietly. "He would have hunted you down first if you had."

I don't understand why Peeta is always trying to protect me. His selfless, sacrificial attitude doesn't make sense to me. He should be angry that I've joined the Careers. Instead, he's encouraging me, and it makes me feel terrible for hurting him, for always being rude instead of grateful. When will I stop being indebted to him?

"Well, I don't care about that anymore," I say, standing up. It's time I took matters into my own hands. "I don't want him stealing sponsors from us. He had no right to say those things about me! I'm going to tell him that the alliance is off and that there isn't any 'triangle.'"

Everyone immediately begins to protest, but I don't stay to listen. Before Haymitch can grab me, I run out, slamming the door behind me. I don't care what their plans are. I want to make my own decision, without everyone talking behind my back like I'm a little child.

Someone runs after me, yelling for me to stop, and I can tell from the voice that it's Peeta. I press the button for the elevator over and over again, while glancing behind me every few seconds. I don't think Peeta would get physical, but I don't want to have to fight him off.

The doors slide open and I jump in. As I spin around to hit the button for the second floor, I see Peeta round the corner. It's too late. The elevator doors begin to close, and I can see the concern in his eyes.

I feel guilty, but I have to do this for him. I'm mad at him for keeping all these secrets from me, but I had also been hiding stuff from him. He did a lot for me in his interview, and this is the only way I can repay him. I won't let Cato steal sponsors from Peeta.

* * *

><p>When I arrive on the second floor, I can hear raised voices. It sounds like Clove and another woman are arguing. All of a sudden, I'm not sure if this is a good plan anymore. I don't want to face Clove, not when I'm positive that she's shouting about me. It may be illegal for tributes to harm each other, but if I just broke that rule, I'm sure she has it in her, too.<p>

I remind myself that I'm doing this for Peeta, to repay him for his help. This way we'll be even, and I won't have to keep feeling guilty.

I knock on the door, and everything immediately falls silent. I can hear footsteps. A few moments later, an older woman opens the door.

She takes one look at me and sighs.

"I thought it might be you," she says, revealing sharp, gold teeth.

It's Enobaria, a victor from District 2. She once ripped out another tribute's throat with her teeth. After she won the Games, they gave her golden fangs. It must be a tradition for District 2 to produce ruthless tributes.

Before I can ask to speak with Cato, she shuts the door quite rudely. I consider knocking again, but then I hear a few sharp whispers and heavier footsteps. The door opens.

It's Cato.

"Hey Katniss," he says, pretending to be surprised. As if he didn't anticipate me confronting him.

I don't like how he always refers to me as the girl on fire, but I hate it when he uses my name, like he did in the interviews, as if he actually knows me. He's putting on an act right now, but I'm not like the people in the Capitol.

"Don't call me that," I snap. "Can we talk somewhere private?"

His eyes darken and his smile disappears. I realize that it might not be the best idea to anger him, but I'm too upset to care.

"Yeah, sure," he shrugs.

I don't feel comfortable discussing this with Clove and Enobaria around. Nor do I want Peeta and Haymitch to interrupt our conversation. There's only one other private place I can think of.

We head back up to my floor, down the hall and through the door to the roof.

"What's this about?" he asks casually, leaning against the door.

"You know what this is about," I point at him angrily. "What were you playing at, telling Caesar that we had been getting to know each other these past weeks? We never spoke to one another until yesterday."

He chuckles and stands up straight, towering over me.

"You think I was going to let you and lover boy get all the sponsors?" he says. He takes a strand of my hair and twirls it with his fingers. "Share the love, Katniss."

"I said don't call me that," I grit my teeth.

I try to step back, but in a flash of an eye Cato grabs me by my arms. Spinning me around, he pins me against the wall.

My heart is racing, and I think that this is it. He's going to crush me with his hands.

"What is this? An attempt to get out of the alliance?" he hisses at me, and for the first time, I can see that I've made him angry. "Let me tell you something, _Katniss_. If you suddenly back out, people are going to start questioning this whole love story, your boy included. The way I see it, this love triangle benefits us all. You're mad about me making up stuff? What do you think he was doing?"

"He was trying to protect me," I spit at him, defending Peeta.

I'm scared, but I let my anger wash over me. It bothers me to no end how Cato speaks to Peeta's intentions as if he knows him, as if they're one in the same. Cato is manipulative. Peeta is a good person. Even if I may not fully understand his intentions, I certainly trust him more than I trust Cato. Peeta would never corner me or threaten me physically like this.

"_I_ can protect you," Cato says roughly. And then, laughing: "What's he going to do? Camouflage the others to death? You're safe with me. You can trust me. If I kill you, there won't be any sponsors coming my way."

I want nothing more than to spit in this boy's face and tell him to go to hell. But I think about what he says, how backing out could hurt all of us in getting sponsors. I've messed up enough with Peeta. I don't want to make things worse.

So I think of something else.

"If I stay with you, you have to promise not to kill Peeta," I say.

Cato lets out another bark of laughter.

"You do understand how this game is played, right?" he says, raising an eyebrow.

"You know what I mean," I say, glaring at him.

"Okay, we'll save the fight over you for the finale," he smirks.

I don't like how he's coerced me into staying with the Careers, but his protection makes everything between Peeta and me even.

And then Cato leans in and does the unthinkable. His lips are on mine before my mind comprehends what he's doing. I'm pressed up against the wall with nowhere to go. One of his hands takes hold of my hair, keeping my head in place, as I struggle futilely.

I've never been kissed before and, though I am not a romantic person, I hate that it's Cato. It's not supposed to be him. He doesn't even like me - as he said himself, he's doing all of this for sponsors - so why is he kissing me?

When he pulls back, he's breathing heavily. He rests his forehead on mine, staring at me so intensely, I'm afraid that he's going to kiss me again. I can see hunger in his eyes, and I realize that it's no longer just about winning the Games. His declaration in the interviews has fueled his competitive nature, and he truly is going to try to "win me over," whatever that means. I'm not sure I want to know.

I want to yell and scream at him for kissing me, but I don't want to give him any more reason to do it again. He has started a dangerous game, one I'm not sure how to play.

He releases my arms and opens the door. Before he leaves, he turns to me.

"I'll leave him alone until the end... but I won't let him steal you from me."


	4. Instinct

A/N: I send my love to my anonymous reviewers: **bleepAKAbleep**, **K**, **Lana**, **Cccc**, **Willow**, **Allison**, **imnotweirdimdifferent**, **aphaia**, **Meg**, **catoXkatniss**, **Cassie**, **human28**, **anonymous**, **Annabeth**, **catniss**, **Sophia**, and **Anonymous**!

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><p>"<em>I'll leave him alone until the end… but I won't let him steal you from me."<em>

My back slides down the wall until I'm crouching with my arms wrapped around my knees. I'm shaking from anger and fear. I never trusted Cato, but I didn't expect for him to derail everything the way he has. Most of all, I didn't think he would kiss me. I shudder at the memory, forever burned in my mind, of his lips on mine and his hands in my hair. I feel dirty, both mentally and physically. I can't bring myself to tell Haymitch or Peeta what happened, which is probably what Cato was betting on. He's a lot more formidable than I thought, and now I know what he's like when he's angry. Except I'm sure that wasn't even him losing his temper.

His kiss, the interviews – all of this has changed the Games. Before, there was never any confusion, never any misunderstanding of what was expected of me. This was supposed to be about me staying alive and hunting the other tributes. That's how everyone else will be playing the game. Now I don't even know what to do when I step into the arena. It's not as easy as before, not that it ever was. And I'm not sure how to deal with it.

When I walk back inside, Haymitch and Peeta are sitting on the couch, waiting for me. I'm sure they have been talking behind my back, planning something or another. Little do they know I've made plans of my own.

Peeta gives me a strange look, while Haymitch turns to me expectantly. They want to know what happened, but there's only so much I can tell them.

"I'm still with the Careers," I mumble, not looking at them when I say it.

I don't want them to think that I wasn't able to do it or that I felt the need to adhere to their plans. I hate how, in the end, I did what they thought was best for me, as if I couldn't decide for myself.

"Good decision," Haymitch says.

Of course he thinks I was only listening to him.

"What did you two talk about then?" Peeta asks curiously.

I open my mouth to tell them the conclusion we came to, but I hesitate. I'm not sure I want to reveal my deal with Cato. It would be insulting to Peeta, me protecting him. Maybe I wouldn't mind, and maybe Peeta doesn't have the testosterone level of Cato, but I can see it bothering him. He doesn't want any favors from Cato.

Besides, if Peeta knew, he might not fear the Careers as much, and I remember what Cato said – how he won't let Peeta steal me. Peeta has to stay away from us for my plan to work. He has to believe that Cato would kill him if he found him. Otherwise this will all be for nothing. And it's not like he hasn't kept secrets from me.

"I asked Cato why he lied in the interviews, and he said it was because he wanted sponsors, like you guessed," I say. "Then I told him I wanted out, and he said it would weaken the love story for all of us. It also makes sense to stay, I guess, because Cato won't kill me if it means him losing sponsors."

"More importantly, he won't want you dead," Haymitch interrupts. "He will keep you alive to keep the 'love' alive. You don't have to worry about the other Careers."

I suppose that, to a certain degree, that makes sense, but that doesn't necessarily guarantee my safety. When I went downstairs, I could hear Clove yelling about me. Something tells me she's not on board with this love triangle. I don't see her and Glimmer listening to Cato. They won't want to anger him, but they'll be looking for opportunities to conveniently dispose of me. Cato is skilled, but he can't keep his eyes on me the whole time while still hunting the others.

"Yeah, he said he would protect me," I say, not that I believe it.

If Cato can fake a proclamation of love, he can fake tears of grief. And I'm sure that would still earn him some sponsors.

"So what else did you discuss?" Haymitch asks.

"Nothing," I shrug.

Peeta gives me that strange look again, as if he doesn't believe me.

"That was it?" Peeta asks, and I detect a hint of sarcasm.

It takes me aback. The way Peeta is looking at me makes me feel nervous, like he might know about the kiss. But that's not possible. Cato and I were alone on the roof, and Peeta was here the entire time. I'm just being paranoid.

"Yeah, that was it," I mutter.

I grab a sandwich and some pastries from the kitchen before retiring to my room. Everyone else has already eaten dinner, and that's just fine. I'm still feeling unnerved by my encounter with Cato earlier. I want some solitary time to think about my strategy for tomorrow and to unravel the enigma that is Cato.

I replay the kiss in my head over and over again, until the memory no longer makes me cringe, and I come up with as many motives as I can.

He wants to set a precedent of us being a "couple" in the Games. But he must know that there's no way I would play along with that.

The kiss was a way of intimidating me. Well, disgusting me is more like it. His very presence is intimidating. A kiss? Not so much.

And then I realize what it must be. Cato meant to throw me off with that kiss. In fact, me sitting here wracking my brain is probably exactly what he wants. The kiss is supposed to be on my mind so that I'll make a mistake and get myself killed.

The answer is clear: I can't let myself get distracted. There is no meaning to the kiss. I need to forget about it entirely and act like it didn't happen. I have to focus on the Games, not this fake reality he created in front of the Capitol.

It's time to begin thinking about my strategy. Romance-wise, just because I do have to try to appease the sponsors, I'm not going to show an inkling of affection for Cato. They will think that I'm trying to make him work for it, and it won't make the love triangle seem as lopsided. But Cato better not try to kiss me again. I don't think he will, though, because somehow I don't think the Capitol will buy our "love," if he sexually assaults me.

What about Peeta? If I run into him, I'll help him get away. That will send mix signals to the Capitol. No one will know who I am really "in love" with. If I have to leave the Careers because of those girls, I might even team up with him. Once the competition thins and Cato doesn't think it worthwhile to pretend to be in love anymore, though, I'll be on my own. We all will.

Beyond that, I just have to stay alive, which means staying close to Cato and avoiding Clove and Glimmer until the time comes to go. Easier said than done, but I'm in a better situation than I was two days ago. I need to get my hands on a bow and arrows. If there aren't any, I'll do what Gale said and make one.

Gale. I wonder what he's doing right now. He's probably concerned for me. He definitely watched the interviews. Like Haymitch, he would have seen right through Cato. I don't know what he would think of Peeta, though. I'm not even sure what I think of him.

My thoughts naturally travel to my mother and Prim. I can picture them not being able to sleep, too anxious and worried about the Games tomorrow. To be honest, I'm feeling nauseous myself. It must be heart wrenching for them. I wonder what they thought of me in the interviews. I'm sure I looked alien to them, but when I talked about Prim… She probably cried.

Lying in bed, I realize that, as much as I need a good night's rest, I won't get it. There's too much on my mind. I need to get away.

I roll out of bed and walk out into the hallway. All the lights are off, but I know my way. When I reach the door leading to the roof, I hold the handle for a brief moment. Do I really want to find comfort in the place where Cato cornered me?

But then I remind myself that I'm not supposed to let that kiss bother me anymore. If I turn around now, it will prove that Cato has the upper hand, that he can get inside my head and affect me like this.

I am determined to erase the kiss from my memory. What better way than to revisit where it happened? I force myself to open the door.

When I see the shadow of another person, a boy, I jump back, thinking it's Cato.

It's Peeta.

"What are you doing here?" I blurt out, startling him.

He turns to me.

"Can't sleep?" he asks, smiling softly.

I guess it makes sense that he's out here. What normal person could sleep the night before their eminent death?

"I have a lot on my mind," I say. He undoubtedly does, too.

"I'm sure you do," he says, and this time the sarcasm is evident.

"What's your problem?" I ask angrily.

He looks away, not saying anything. And then I realize that what I thought earlier must be true. Somehow he saw Cato and me.

Instead of confronting Peeta about it, I try to be more tactful. After the vase-shattering debacle, I've been trying to turn a new leaf. It's not always easy, though, as illustrated by my equally disastrous encounter with Cato.

"I lied to you and Haymitch when I said that was all that happened between Cato and me," I say quietly. Peeta peers back at me, and I continue. "He kissed me at the end."

"I saw," Peeta says dully, confirming my thoughts.

"I hated it," I say, not to comfort him, but because it's the truth.

"Then why did you let him do it?" Peeta says sourly.

I can tell he doesn't believe me. He thinks I'm trying to mollify him. I don't see why it matters, but I suppose Peeta is probably afraid that I'm legitimately on Cato's side or worse, that I've actually fallen for him.

"If you were watching closely, you would have seen that I was trying to fight him off," I shoot back. I don't like how unfair Peeta is being. "I just didn't want to anger him any more than I already had. Who knows what he would have done. I wanted to avoid any more kisses."

Peeta doesn't respond, but watches me intently.

"Why are you staying with him if he forces you to kiss him?" Peeta asks.

Peeta's accusation makes me angry, as if he's insinuating that I'm lying or that I don't have any respect for myself. I have good reasons, even if he doesn't know them, and it's insulting for him to think otherwise.

"Stop saying that like he does it all the time," I snap. "He won't dare kiss me again, not in front of the cameras. And I already told you my reasons for staying."

"You're hiding something else," Peeta says bluntly.

I'm caught off guard, and Peeta notices it.

"You're a bad liar, Katniss," Peeta shakes his head. "You're going to have to do better in the Games."

"You don't know anything," I retort. "Just stay out of the Cornucopia and don't come near us."

I turn and leave the roof before I can give anything away. And even though I am doing something noble, putting myself in the hands of a clever monster to protect Peeta, he has a way of making me feel ashamed. I want to go back and yell at him, to tell him that I'm doing all of this for him, that I never wanted to be Cato's ally, that I never wanted any of this.

Whoever said lies are easier to tell than the truth was wrong.

* * *

><p>The moment I stir, my mind is alert, and I cannot lie down a second longer.<p>

Today is the day.

I swing my legs over my bed, sitting up. Rubbing my face with my hands, I am stuck in disbelief at first. Am I really going to fight in the Hunger Games?

It's not like I haven't already come to terms with it or that I didn't see this day coming. I just can't believe it's already here, like the first sixteen years of my life blew by. It feels too short. It is too short.

All of a sudden, I'm paralyzed. My breathing quickens, and my thoughts are racing at the speed of light.

Then I think of Gale's words, of Cato's offer, of the Capitol's reaction, and I realize for the first time that I could do this. I remember my strategies from yesterday – find a bow and arrow, keep an eye on Clove and Glimmer, help Peeta when I can and, most importantly, don't show any affection for Cato. The last one will be the easiest.

With that, I stand up to face the day.

I don't see Peeta, which is relieving. I was afraid that, after the way our conversation ended last night, he would corner me this morning for answers. And me being the bad liar that I am, he probably would have figured out my secret. But this is Peeta, not Cato, and confrontation, thankfully, is not his style.

"Are you ready?" Cinna asks when he arrives to pick me up.

As ready as I'll ever be.

I nod, and Cinna takes me to the hovercraft, where I'm stuck with a syringe that contains a tracking device. Other than that, our ride is uneventful. Cinna and I are both silent. I am running through my strategies in my head, too nervous to spend this time doing anything else. I need to have it embedded in my mind so that, when the time comes, I can act on instinct.

When we arrive in the Launch Room, I take a shower, the last one I'll be having for a while, and eat as much as I possibly can for breakfast. Fear and nausea aside, I know I must fill my body with as much nutrition as possible because who knows what I'll be facing in the arena?

In the last few minutes, I change into my new outfit, one that all of us will be wearing. Cinna fastens the gold mockingjay pin onto my jacket.

"Katniss," Cinna says quietly. "Do you want to talk?"

Our eyes lock for a moment and I shake my head. There's really nothing to say.

He grasps my hand, and I step onto the metal plate.

"You should be safe with the Careers," Cinna says. "Remember what Haymitch said – you will know when to get out. Don't worry about the boys. Focus on yourself. The rest will follow."

I nod, realizing that Cinna is right. I need to stop thinking about Cato and Peeta. This is about me winning for Prim, for my mother, for everyone back home. I can't forget that.

Cinna then tells me that if he could bet, his money would be on me. Tears spring to my eyes, but I don't dare let them fall. With those words, Cinna has filled me with overwhelming optimism. I can see in his eyes that he means what he said, and for a moment, I wholeheartedly agree with him. I might bet on me, too.

He whispers good luck before the cylinder begins to rise.

Once I am pushed out into the open air, I am relieved to see that a lake and piney woods surround us. Of all the possible terrains, this is one of the best-case scenarios. More importantly, I see all of the useful things piled in the Cornucopia – weapons, medicine, food. Anything and everything I would need to survive out here.

I never thought I would feel this way, but I am actually excited now to be with the Careers, and there is adrenaline pumping in my veins. All of this will be ours. Survival in the short run won't be an issue.

Speaking of the Careers, I spot Cato. He smirks at me and nods to the Cornucopia as if to say: _Look at our riches. You made the right choice._ I also see Clove and Glimmer, and though they see me as well, they don't throw me the usual glares and deathly stares, which makes me wonder if Cato has talked to them.

And then the gong rings.

I'm rooted to the ground at first, unsure of what to do. My instinct tells me to run away from the mass of tributes running into the Cornucopia. But I can't. I'm not supposed to. I must fight for my territory. I wasted those last precious seconds watching the others, when I should have been looking for a weapon I could use. And I was supposed to not let myself get distracted.

I look around frantically, when all of a sudden I see the boy from District 5 running towards me, and he has a knife in his right hand. He's not a part of our alliance, and I am surely his target.

I have nothing with which to fight him with, which he has already noticed. All the useful weapons are closer to the Cornucopia. As much as I want to avoid the bloodbath down there, as much as I want to turn around and run away, I need to hold my ground. If Cato has somehow convinced Clove and Glimmer that I'm useful, I have to prove it.

So against all reason I begin sprinting towards him, towards the Cornucopia, hoping that I will find a weapon before we collide.

Then out of nowhere I'm pushed aside by someone, and I fall to the ground. I curse myself for not looking behind me. This must be District 5's ally, Foxface, here to help him kill me.

Except it's not red hair I see, but blonde. And it's not a girl, but a boy. Then I realize that it's Cato.

Everything happens within seconds.

Before my mind has time to register that Cato is saving my life, the boy from District 5 swings his knife at Cato, who deftly blocks his arm. I hear a sickening snap, and the boy cries out in pain. Cato has broken his arm. After that, it's all over. Cato grabs the boy's head and slits his throat.

I'm still on the ground, stunned by the sight before me. It's not the violence that shocks me, but Cato's intervention. Why did Cato save me? He could have just let me die. He could have pretended to mourn and still gotten all the sponsors he would ever need. He wasn't even anywhere close to me. How did he see me and why did he risk his life to come all the way here? It doesn't make sense.

He turns to me, and I want so badly to ask why, but there are hidden cameras everywhere, and as far as the Capitol knows, this is supposed to be what happens. He's supposed to save me.

But I see in his eyes that he is surprised by his actions, too, like he had been acting instinctively and only now realizes what he has done. Then the flicker of surprise is gone, and Cato tosses me something.

A bow and a silver sheath of arrows.


	5. Bloodbath

A/N: Thank you to my reviewers who have their PM feature disabled: **HeyyWhatsup** and **Windspirt** and to my anonymous reviewers: **iStoleallyourjelly**, **Cassie**, **Willow**, **CatoxKatniss4ever**, **Jane** and **catoXkatniss**!

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><p><em>A bow and a silver sheath of arrows.<em>

I immediately unfreeze.

In this moment, it doesn't matter why Cato saved my life or why he picked these weapons up for me. The cloud of confusion dissipates for the time being; the sight of the bow and arrows clears my mind.

There is no time for thoughts now. Instinct kicks in.

I grab the bow and sling the sheath over my shoulder. The feel of the bow in my hand, the arrow between my fingers is all so natural, it's as if I'm back home hunting with Gale. Except the animals that surround me are bloodthirsty tributes; the air is full of screams and yells; and I won't be selling any game in the Hob tonight.

I take a deep breath, focusing, and draw the bowstring back taut.

This is what I was made for.

I don't need to think when selecting my first targets. Like a compass, my hands instantly gravitate towards the tributes nearest me: the boy from District 6 and the girl from District 7.

Cato, still near me, naturally goes for the tougher opponent, the boy, but I'm one step ahead of him. Cato reaches down, picking up a sword, but before he can swing it, I shoot an arrow through the boy's neck. He immediately collapses, the blood seeping profusely and staining the dirt beneath him. I've severed his carotid artery, and he will bleed out in seconds. It's a merciful, easy kill.

Cato whips his head towards me. I expect him to be pissed off because I've just stolen his prey, but instead he has an impressed look on his face and something akin to respect. I already told him of my skills, but I suppose seeing is believing. I shrug in response because that was pretty standard for me, nothing difficult about it. The boy was close, the target bigger than I'm used to. Maybe Cato's just surprised that I have a killer instinct in me. I know I am. Perhaps we're more similar than I'd like to think.

I turn next to the girl from District 7, who, having watched me shoot the boy from District 6, starts to run away. She hasn't put enough distance between us, though, and I take her down easily, also through the neck. I do aim for consistency.

Two arrows and two kills.

When I glance back at Cato, he gives me an approving nod and a half-smirk, which I think for him is a smile, as if he's proud of me. Then he's off running towards the boy from District 8.

I should be revolted, except I'm on a high. The adrenaline is still pumping in my veins, and this is all so very exciting. The weapons in my hands have washed all of my previous fears and anxiety away.

Having cleared out the immediate area around me, I take in the rest of my surroundings, though it is hard to decipher through the commotion. Clove and Glimmer are fighting the girls from Districts 3 and 10, but it's a lopsided match. I have no doubt that Clove and Glimmer will massacre the girls, however I have no desire to watch. With my bow and arrows, though, they no longer intimidate me.

Everyone seems to be engaged in combat, giving me more time to look around and choose my next target.

Before I can find my allies from District 4, I spot Peeta from afar, and my heart freezes in fear. What is he still doing here? I watch him as he struggles with the boy from District 9, the two fighting over a duffel bag that is undoubtedly full of useful supplies. Peeta was supposed to clear out of the Cornucopia once the gong rang, though, not participate in the bloodbath for supplies. I know he is strong, but it's too dangerous for Peeta to be here.

I'm glad that, for the time being, my allies are preoccupied with other tributes because if they were to go after Peeta, it would be a lot harder to save him. This other boy, however, has no idea that he is my next target. I quickly slip another arrow into my bow and aim at him. With him and Peeta wrestling on the ground, it takes awhile before I get a clear shot, and even then it only goes through his chest. It's not fatal, but the arrow sends him stumbling, allowing Peeta to free the bag from the boy's grasp. Peeta looks up at me in surprise, and I see the fear in his eyes. There's something else, too, that I can't quite pinpoint.

"Go!" I shout at Peeta. "Go, now!"

He looks hesitant, as if he wants to say something. What on earth is he thinking? This is neither the time nor the place for a conversation.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the other boy crawling towards something. Though the tall grass obscures my view, I'm positive it's a weapon.

Cursing, I send another arrow his way. I can't tell where it lands, but the boy stills. It bothers me to no end that it cost me an extra arrow, but there's my third kill.

Peeta's eyes widen, flickering between the dead boy and me, as if he's shocked by the violence and my ability to kill. He shouldn't be though; he knew before I went in front of the judges that I am a skilled hunter. Or maybe he's surprised that I'm able to kill so ruthlessly, without reservation. But this is what the Games are about, and I just saved his life. He should be grateful instead of in a state of shock. There's no time to feel guilty now. That will come later.

And why hasn't he left yet? He is so different from me, seemingly having no sense of self-preservation.

"What are you still doing here?" I yell at him. "Go Peeta!"

He finally comes to his senses. Shooting me one last glance, Peeta turns around and makes for the forest, lugging the bloodstained duffel bag with him.

For a brief moment, I consider grabbing the supplies nearest me and following after him. I have my bow and arrows after all. I'm one of the big players now, and I don't necessarily need the Careers. And in any case, everyone else is busy fighting, so no one would notice.

But then I catch Cato glaring at me from across the Cornucopia. That can't be good. He definitely saw me save Peeta's life and though our deal didn't mention anything about me helping Peeta out, I can tell he isn't happy.

Keeping his gaze on me, he shakes his head once, as if he read my mind and knows I'm thinking of leaving. And I realize that, armed as I am, I can't outrun Cato. Nor can I shoot him without the others taking me down soon afterwards.

He won't let me leave.

Yet a part of me wants to be where I am – ahead of the pack, making headway. I don't know if I could leave all of this, only to go survive in the woods.

And even though I still despise Cato, I can't help but dislike him less. I trust Peeta more than I trust Cato, but, even though Peeta saved me and my family years ago by giving me that bread, Cato is the one who just saved my life, which means he can't be that bad of a person. It also means I made the right decision by joining forces with him. Simply put, I wouldn't be standing here if it weren't for Cato. I wouldn't have three kills and I certainly wouldn't be holding this bow. Cato is the reason I'm alive and in a position of power. Could I really shoot him down with the very weapons he gave me?

It seems that the more I try to repay people, the more indebted I become. I hate it.

So I give Cato one curt nod, signaling that I understand, and I am not going anywhere.

I turn to go back into the fray, but the main fight is over. As I thought, Clove and Glimmer killed the girls from Districts 3 and 10 with ease. They don't seem to be sporting any wounds themselves. Neither am I. I note with surprise that one of my allies, the boy from District 4, has also been slain, though I am not sure who his killer was. I never saw him in action.

There are a few stragglers left, which means cleanup.

I view the task as putting the injured ones out of their misery, but I find that Clove likes to play with her food. I watch as she pounces on the girl from Districts 6, teasing her with her knives. The girl's screams invade my mind, torturing me, and I want more than anything to intervene, to release one merciful arrow. But as much as I detest her, Clove is my ally, and I don't want to jeopardize our camaraderie, for lack of a better word. She has behaved thus far, which according to my criteria means she hasn't made an attempt on my life.

So I turn away and try my best to block out the screams. It's impossible.

Cato, surprisingly, is not as cruel. Or perhaps he has something on his mind because he looks to be deep in thought, his brow furrowed. He is probably wracking his brain for reasons why he saved me. Beats me. Or maybe he's still angry with me for saving Peeta, in which case I should tread carefully. He quickly snaps the neck of the boy from District 7 and moves on.

The only one left is the girl from District 9. I don't want any of the others to get their hands on her, so I take careful aim and let loose an arrow, which pierces her heart.

That's four.

"Clear out so they can pick up the bodies," Cato calls out, once it's clear that the injured are now dead.

I gladly acquiesce because, as much as I partook in the bloodbath, I don't like seeing the bodies. It's the aftermath of the hunt; all the excitement and adrenaline is gone, leaving only guilt for the mutilated victims. Though they will surely haunt me in my dreams, I don't want to think about them a moment longer.

We walk to the edge of the forest, watching as the hovercrafts fly in. Funny how they bring us in alive and take us out when we're dead.

Then we hear what will become the familiar sound of cannons. All of us count silently - eleven fallen tributes. Nearly half of us are gone. I wonder how much longer until this alliance is over.

As to be expected, the others begin whooping and cheering.

"Eleven down and thirteen to go!" the boy from Glimmer's district shouts with glee.

I don't celebrate, but observe as the others high five each other. I should be disgusted with myself for slaughtering everyone in the Cornucopia. Instead I'm proud that more than one third of those kills were mine. I always separated the Careers from me as the vicious, brutal tributes, yet now I don't see the difference between them and me. Maybe the fact that I'm not as enthralled as they are by the number of slain tributes? Even that's a lie. I'm not cheering on the outside, but I can't help but feel relieved on the inside.

"Yeah Marvel, there's still seven losers out there so maybe you can get another kill," Clove sneers, crossing her arms.

I'm surprised that the pair from District 1 didn't make a bigger dent, but I suppose among the six of us, and with only twelve other tributes participating in the bloodbath, it wasn't exactly easy divvying everyone evenly.

"Oh, like you did so much better," Marvel retorts. "The only real people who can talk here are Cato and Katniss."

Marvel doesn't seem to loathe me like Clove and Glimmer do, but I really don't want him to pull me into this. Thankfully Clove only clenches her fists. My success must bother her. A girl like her doesn't like being beat.

"You're seriously going to criticize _us_?" Glimmer glares at Clove, and her eyes flicker to the girl from District 4.

I had forgotten about District 4, though I saw the dead boy. Preoccupied with my own battles, as well as with saving Peeta, I didn't notice District 4. The girl, it seems, didn't get a single kill.

"I assisted back there, and you're the one who killed my partner!" she snaps back, pointing at Marvel.

"And I'd kill him again in a heartbeat," Marvel smirks. I hate his arrogant smile, as if he's in on some joke the rest of us are unaware of. "He was injured and would have been a liability for us."

"He wasn't very useful in the first place," Cato says, crossing his arms. This time the girl has the common sense not to run her mouth again.

Great. Half an hour into the Games, and people are already at each other's throats. Okay, not literally. Definitely not literally. They're arguing, and the most surprising thing is that I'm not in the middle of this. Somehow no one is angry with me, except perhaps Clove, but at the moment she seems to be ignoring me.

"The hovercrafts are gone," Cato says, ending the conversation. "Let's sort through the supplies."

We begin walking around the Cornucopia, picking up supplies and sorting them into three piles: food, medical supplies and weapons. There are so many useful things here, I certainly won't need to hunt game or gather berries, and if I'm injured, it won't necessarily mean infection and death.

At the same time, I feel guilty, not just for being the most prolific murderer here, but because Peeta is out there hiding in the woods, while I'm picking my food from off the ground. I hope that he's doing well and that he has what he needs in that bag because I'm not sure how many more opportunities I'll have to protect him.

"Good job today," Cato interrupts my reverie.

His voice startles me, and I'm not quite sure what to say to that. Thank you, I never realized I'd be so good at killing people? Needless to say, I'm not in the mood for conversation.

"You too," I say. "And um, thanks for, you know, helping me today."

I am grateful that Cato saved my life, no matter what his intentions were. It would have been humiliating to be killed first, especially when I now know that I can hold my own.

"Nothing you wouldn't do for me," Cato says, half-smirking, knowing the Capitol will interpret that as a budding romance.

"Or should I say, nothing you wouldn't do for _Peeta_," Cato continues.

And then I see real anger in his eyes. He doesn't try to conceal it. I suppose this will be perceived as the love triangle drama. It's ironic how we aren't acting.

"Look, I stayed, didn't I?" I say quietly, not wanting to discuss this.

"Yeah," Cato says, staring at me straight in the eye.

I can tell that he wants to say more, but he can't release all his anger on me because he's supposed to be in love. Lucky for me.

But then suddenly he grabs my arm, pulling me towards him so that both our bodies are touching. In one fluid motion, he dips my head back and kisses me. It's quick. He pulls back and, leaning into my ear, whispers fiercely:

"_You're not going anywhere._"

Before I can pull away, Cato releases me.

I'm frozen to the spot anyway, and I've momentarily lost my ability to speak. I can't believe that he kissed me again and especially in front of the cameras! I should be losing it, but I can't, not when it could translate into losing sponsors. I didn't think Cato would do it, and I certainly didn't realize that he was smart enough to know I wouldn't do anything about it.

This must be why he saved my life. Cato wants to paint this rosy picture that we're falling in love. He's really going through with this. Except I'm keeping to my plan, helping Peeta when I can and not returning Cato's affections to send those mixed signals. I won't let him "win" me over.

Cato keeps close to me after that. I can't shake him off, but I make sure to stay out of his reach. I'm going to have to be more careful from now on. There won't be any more stolen kisses on my watch.

The two of us work silently aside each other. I'm not in any mood to talk to him, and he senses it, though every so often I catch him sneaking a glance at me. The others seem to gladly put some distance between them and me. Every once in awhile, Clove and Glimmer shoot me a dirty look. I'm pretty sure that Cato is just trying to keep me prisoner, but the Capitol will view it as us being a couple, or at least becoming one. The only silver lining, and it's a small one, is that it keeps those girls away.

After a couple of hours, we're finally done going through all the supplies. We set up shelter in the Cornucopia, laying out six sleeping bags and some pillows.

Clove tosses a sack full of goggles, which spill onto the floor. There's enough goggles for all of us, but I'm not quite sure what they're for. What are we, going for a team swim in the lake?

"Night-vision goggles," she grins.

Oh. Something tells me the night is still young.

It's a great ploy though to be sure. We're the only ones with these goggles, so while others are struggling to see in the night, we will be hunting as if it's daylight. It gives us a huge advantage, not that we don't already have one. Moreover, the others will be sleeping, or at least trying to. They probably assume that we're doing the same and will hunt for them in the morning. Needless to say, they won't see us coming until it's too late. How horribly efficient.

"We hunt tonight," Cato says, confirming my suspicions.

Everyone begins collecting weapons for tonight. I keep my bow and arrows of course; as long as I am alive, I will never let them leave my side. I also take a knife in case there's any hand-to-hand combat, in which case it could come in handy. I can travel lightly because we will be coming back, and there's no shortage of food here.

Then I think about Peeta and how he might still need supplies. Unlike me, he's no hunter. Running into him will be a long shot, but I grab one of the backpacks anyway and start filling it up with water purification pills, another knife, a sleeping bag and some rope. I pick up a loaf of bread and add it to the backpack, too. If Peeta once saved my life with it, maybe I can save his. I contemplate trying to stuff in some more food, but that would appear suspicious, since there's no need to bring so much.

"Packing for a camping trip?" a voice interrupts me from behind.

I whip around, startled, to see Clove with her arms folded and an eyebrow raised at me. I consider reaching for my bow, but her knives are tucked away, so I hope this is going to be an amicable conversation. Okay, it probably won't be amicable, but as long as it's only a conversation.

"I don't know how long we'll be gone," I lie.

I can tell she doesn't buy it.

"Not that long, I can tell you," she says. "But that's a nice try."

My eyes dart behind her, and I note with relief that Cato hasn't noticed the two of us speaking. I don't want him to find out about me trying to sneak supplies to Peeta. That might give him the urge to kiss me again. That or strangle me.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I immediately respond.

I've never been a great liar. Clove's lips curl upwards.

"So that wasn't you who saved lover boy today?" she says, and my heart sinks. Seeing my reaction, her smile widens. "Ah, right. Thinking of sending him a gift, too, now?"

I stiffen at her words.

"I can do what I want with my share," I say, staring straight back at her. She's terrifying, but I am armed and confident. "What's it to you?"

"Oh, do what you want," she says airily, waving her hand. "But you should know that Cato isn't very pleased with what happened in the Cornucopia today."

As if my lips and I are not well aware of that.

"What are you - his messenger?" I spit, and her expression darkens.

"Believe it or not, I am trying to help you," she says sweetly - too sweetly because I don't believe a word of it. She takes a step forward. "You're useful, I see that. You're better than the others. But not everyone is excited about you being here, so you should really watch your back. Cato will vouch for you, of course, but it's not a good idea to piss him off. That stunt this morning? He's still irritated from that. Now if he catches you sneaking supplies off to lover boy, that's really going to set him off. And you haven't seen him when he's angry."


	6. Good Will Hunting

A/N: Thank you to those who have their PM feature disabled: **AlwaysthereforTaraXX** and **once and future**, and to my anonymous reviewers: **Willow**, **lOVE yOUR wRITING** and **Cassie**!

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><p>"<em>And you haven't seen him when he's angry.<em>"

"What's going on?" Cato says, interrupting our conversation before I can ask Clove what she means.

I glare at Clove, thinking she's going to rat me out. I tighten my grip on the backpack strap. Even if she tells Cato, he can't force me to leave my belongings behind. I fought for the supplies here just like everyone else; in fact, with my four kills, I'm entitled to more of it.

Instead, she shrugs at Cato nonchalantly.

Clove is a lot better than me at hiding her emotions. I'm sure that her little tirade was a means with which to manipulate me, to get inside my head. This must be a talent of the citizens of District 2. Except I can read Cato's emotions, and I understand most of his motives. Clove, on the other hand, is dangerous in a different way. Though she says she's trying to help me and hasn't snitched on me yet, I don't trust her or her warning. I think she's the type of person who keeps her friends close, but her enemies closer. I have to be sure to disregard everything she says.

"We're just talking," Clove says, examining her fingernails.

I can tell Cato doesn't believe her, but he doesn't pursue the matter any further. I wonder why Clove doesn't say anything about the supplies I'm bringing along.

"Then shut up and get going," he says irritably.

Clove's eyes shoot up at Cato, as if she's itching to make a catty comment, like telling him how stupid he's going to look to the Capitol when I'm handing off supplies to Peeta. For a split second, I hope she does because then Cato might hurt her in a fit of anger, though he would have much more reason to hurt me. Clove is too smart for that, though. She simply wears her signature smirk and waltzes off, storing this knowledge in her head for when it might benefit her in the future.

"Come on, let's go," Cato says to me, extending his hand.

Does he really think I would hold his hand? I'm still upset about the kiss, and while he did save me, I'm not going to suddenly forget that he's still first and foremost my enemy – after all, Clove just reminded me that everyone here is. Cato and I may be temporarily working together, but I'm not going to play into his romantic façade.

I take one look at his extended hand and shove past him.

"What – you can hold Peeta's hand, but not mine?" he scoffs.

I'm about to ask him what he's talking about, when I realize he's referring to the opening ceremonies. It's creepy knowing he's been watching me for this long.

I debate dishing out a cutting remark about how I have no desire to hold his hand, but I can't be too mean, otherwise people in the Capitol will start questioning why I'm fighting alongside him in the first place. I can, however, continue to act uninterested. Cato's the one who proclaimed his love, not me.

"I'm fine walking on my own," I say stiffly. Let the Capitol think I'm playing hard to get.

Cato runs his hand through his hair instead. He holds his gaze on me, as if he's considering saying something else, but then shrugs and walks off to join the others.

Each of us dons a pair of the night-vision goggles and grabs a flashlight, except for the girl from District 4, whose task is to guard our supplies.

"Hey, I don't want to be left behind," she says heatedly. "No one's going to steal our stuff anyway."

Cato, however, doesn't like it when people disagree with his ideas. I experienced it first-hand when I tried to get out of the alliance.

"Then your job should be easy," Cato snaps back. "You didn't get any kills, so you get stuck doing guard-duty. It's that simple."

Clove tosses a pair of goggles to the girl, who catches it clumsily.

"We saved you a pair," Clove smirks.

After that, the girl doesn't argue. She's the weakest of the group, and she knows it. In her position, there's not much bargaining power. If anything, she's lucky the others haven't decided to get rid of her yet, that they still see some use in her. I feel bad for her, but at the same time, I can't save everyone. And it's not like she's in imminent danger. The tributes we hunt tonight are.

We begin hiking through the woods. My eyes have to adjust to the strange, green-tinted view, though it is undoubtedly clearer than the pitch-black darkness I would otherwise be seeing. I won't have any problems aiming tonight.

Unfortunately, the silence doesn't last and soon everyone is joking and jeering again, this time recounting their kills from the bloodbath. For them, it's a time to boast. Reliving their experiences only bolsters their confidence, as if they don't already have large egos after taking over the Cornucopia. They exchange compliments about each other's tactics and ploys, and then laugh about their victims' demises.

As much as I try to tune them out, their conversation makes me feel queasy. Yes, my participation far exceeded theirs, but I only feel guiltier the more I think about the bloodbath.

The faces of my victims unwillingly flash before my eyes. I tell myself that I acted in self-defense, that they would have killed me if they had the chance. Yet though that may have been the case with the boy from District 9, what if the girl I killed from District 7 was only trying to gather supplies like Peeta? Or what if Rue had been out there? She's a good person, and I wouldn't have shot at her; yet how am I supposed to be sure that the people I killed all truly deserved to die?

The answer's simple. They didn't. None of us deserve to die. Nor are we selfless enough to put the lives of others before our own.

At the end of the day, I'm not as good as Peeta, with his ideals and morals; he can put strangers before himself, but not I. I have a survival instinct, and I have to take care of Prim and my mother. At the same time, I am not as unaffected as Cato and the rest of the Careers. I'm sure sleep won't come easily to me tonight.

It seems that no matter where I go, I don't fit in. Who knows, maybe I would work well with someone like Rue.

"What about you?" Marvel calls out to me.

He seems keen on including me in the conversation, though I can't understand why.

"What about me?" I ask.

I haven't been paying attention on purpose.

"You were dead meat until Cato came along and snapped that guy's neck," Marvel says. Then, turning to the rest of the group: "That was killer by the way – did you see how the guy had a sword and even swung it? Cato took him down with his bare hands. You're the man!"

The others begin cheering again, but Cato looks me in the eye and shrugs, imitating my response when I shot down the boy from District 6. If I looked half as arrogant as Cato does now, I must have seemed like quite the Career. We both try to suppress a smile, failing miserably.

"What are you two smiling about?" Glimmer asks, annoyed.

I've noticed she likes to be the center of attention. Figures for someone with a name like hers.

"Nothing," we say at the same time.

Great, now it looks like we're finishing each other's sentences. I'm supposed to be holding back my interest.

"So anyway, what about your kills Katniss?" Marvel asks curiously. "Give us the details!"

Glimmer rolls her eyes. She's evidently as unused to someone like me being popular as I am.

"She used her bow and arrows," Glimmer says. And then, sarcastically: "Real interesting."

"It's far more interesting than hearing your tenth recounting of your one, single kill," Clove says flatly. "Personally, I'm impressed you can come up with so many angles."

At that, Glimmer's face turns red, and she shuts up.

And here I thought she and Clove were close. It seems that among Careers, respect only goes towards the deadliest, which is why the girl from District 4 is back at the Cornucopia all by her lonesome and Glimmer has to take whatever insults Clove dishes out. Even Marvel is sucking up to Cato and me. This hierarchy feels strangely like the social structure of the popular kids at school, not that I'm familiar with it, and needless to say, I don't like it.

"I don't think we should keep talking. We're alerting everyone a mile away of our presence," I say.

In actuality, I just don't want to talk about the bloodbath. However, this is a perfectly good excuse. We really are ruining the element of surprise with our loud conversation. When Gale and I hunt, we're as silent as can be and even then we sometimes scare off our prey. I never said anything until now because I don't want to have to watch someone else die tonight, or worse, partake in the killing. However, I also don't want to give away my weakness, namely my compassion. If the others realize I actually feel terrible for killing, they'll think less of me, and I don't want to be on the receiving end of their jokes; nor do I want to be stuck doing "guard-duty."

"Katniss is right," Cato says, much to my relief. The spotlight vanishes. "Enough of the conversation. We're out here to find some tributes to kill."

The others obey and soon the only sound we can hear is that of our footsteps. To me, it's still too loud. If we were out hunting animals, we would surely go home empty-handed. We humans, however, have a vastly inferior sense of hearing. I wouldn't be surprised if we were still able to sneak up on another tribute.

Not even a half an hour later, my heart sinks when we spot a fire from afar. I bite my bottom lip nervously. If everyone continued talking, the unfortunate tribute at that fire might have a chance to escape. But because I'm the one who got everyone to quiet down, I am the reason this person could die.

"Well look at what we have here," Clove breathes. "Someone thinks this is all just one big camping trip."

She shoots a glance at me. I understand the double meaning. After all, that's a lot like what she said to me earlier. Thankfully, no one else gets the reference.

"How stupid can you get?" Glimmer giggles.

For the first and hopefully the last time in my life, I agree with Glimmer. This must be the biggest idiot in the Games. Who would start a fire in the middle of the night? Even if they thought we were waiting until the morning, surely they would realize that upon seeing the fire, which is quite visible from a long distance, we would come and investigate.

"Quiet," Cato hisses. "We don't want them to see us coming."

"What if it's a trap?" I whisper.

I don't think it is, but I have to try to dissuade them. And lighting a fire is so moronic, that it's borderline suspicious.

The others pause, considering my words, and for a moment, I'm hopeful that we'll retreat back to camp.

I forget, of course, that these are the Careers I'm speaking to.

"We'll get closer to scope it out," Cato whispers back, and the others murmur in agreement. "We're not backing out."

We creep up on our tiptoes and sure enough the shadow of a girl comes into view. At this point, I don't even guilty that we've caught her. With or without me here, she would have gotten herself killed with her stupidity. I just want to get this over with.

Then she starts, probably hearing a rustling or some kind of movement. With the five of us treading on leaves and twigs, it's impossible to be completely silent.

Everyone breaks into a run.

I want more than anything to run the other direction, away from these animals. Let them do the killing. I've got a backpack full of supplies, and I'd do just as well on my own.

But Cato stops and turns around, staring right at me. It's like he has a sixth sense. That and I forget I'm being monitored.

"Come on," he says, narrowing his eyes.

His look says: _Don't even think about it. If you try to run away, I'll catch you._

So I begin jogging after him and the others. I suppose since I am the one who suggested hunting quietly, I deserve to see whatever happens.

It's the girl from District 8. By the time I get there, she's already crying, her sobs garbling her words.

"Please, please don't kill me," she begs.

Her pleas pang me, and my heart actually aches. I can't hurt her when she's begging for her life.

She shrinks back slowly, but doesn't make any sudden moves. It doesn't matter at this point. She can't run away; they're not going to let her live.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spot movement in the trees. I think it's some sort of squirrel at first, when I see the outline of a small girl.

It's Rue! What is she doing here? She must have been camping in one of the trees when the girl from District 8 showed up. What rotten luck! She sees me, too, I'm sure of it, and I shake my head at her. I'm not sure if she will heed my warning. I am in the Career pack after all. But I have to try to deter her because if she tries to leave now, she will make her presence known.

Cato cocks his head to the side.

"I don't think you understand how this game is played," he says in a low voice, not unlike what he told me when I asked him to leave Peeta alone. It sends chills down my spine.

"Yeah, I get that it's cold," Marvel kicks one of the logs, sending fiery sparks into the air. It lights up the sky, and Rue's form is momentarily visible. I almost let out a squeak, but fortunately everyone's attention is on the girl who started the fire. No one notices Rue. "But that wasn't a smart move."

"Nope, not at all," Glimmer laughs.

They need to get on with it and out of here.

"She's all yours Cato," Clove says. No one else would dare take this kill anyway. "I prefer moving targets."

"No, no!" the girl shrieks and begins backing away in earnest. "Please!"

It's too late. I want to close my eyes, but force myself to watch; I have to act tough with the others around me. I did watch several people die earlier today. But that was different. They weren't on their knees pleading for their lives.

Cato lunges at her and sticks his sword in her stomach. He's swift – in and out. She lets out one more blood-curdling scream, and then she falls quiet.

I can't help but glance up in the trees. Rue is watching with wide eyes.

"Twelve down and eleven to go!" Marvel whoops.

The others congratulate Cato, as if what he did was an accomplishment. The girl was a sitting duck and we vastly outnumbered her, not to mention we have better weapons. The sight of the bleeding girl sickens me.

Glimmer checks her for supplies, while I tap my feet nervously. Rue is still above us, and I want to get everyone out fast.

"Nothing of use," Glimmer sighs.

"Let's clear out then so they can pick up the body," I say.

It's the first "order" I've given out. I'm expecting some kind of retort, at least from Glimmer, but everyone moves out, just like when Cato gave the command in the Cornucopia. No one argues with me. I suppose killing four tributes has its perks.

Rue is safe for now.

As we're walking back, Cato suddenly stops and looks back. My heartbeat quickens, and my palms are sweaty. Did he hear something? Rue wouldn't have left yet. No, she's too smart for that. She wouldn't have moved until we were well out of hearing range.

"Shouldn't we have heard a cannon by now?" Cato says.

I almost sigh in relief realizing he hasn't found out about Rue.

"Who knows," I shrug. We have to keep going. "We should keep moving."

"There's nothing stopping them from going in immediately," Clove says, contradicting me.

Right now, I want more than anything to put an arrow between her eyes. Maybe that will wipe that smug smirk off her face.

"What if she isn't dead yet?" Glimmer says worriedly.

All it takes is one glare from Cato, and she shuts up. I'm afraid, though, that she's right. The hovercrafts came instantly once we cleared out of the Cornucopia. What else would be preventing them from picking up the body now?

"She's dead. I stabbed her myself," Cato snaps.

"Then where's the cannon?" Clove drawls.

Unlike Glimmer, Clove has the nerve to stand up to Cato. That's one thing on a very short list of what we have in common.

"Someone should go back," Marvel says. He adds hastily: "Just to make sure."

I chew my lip anxiously, hoping they don't choose to go back. Dawn is beginning to break, and soon the darkness won't hide her in the trees.

"I _said_ she's dead," Cato growls.

I'm about to say that or she's going to die soon anyway because that's the truth, but then I realize that this is my chance. I can volunteer for this task – no one would question it – and then give Rue the supplies I brought with me. Of course, it would mean killing the girl from District 8, but it's either me or one of my crueler counterparts.

"I'll do it," I say loudly.

The others turn to me. Glimmer folds her arms, not saying anything, but I know she won't protest. Clove shrugs; she wasn't interested in killing the girl in the first place.

"Go for it," Marvel says.

The only problem here is Cato. I can tell he doesn't want to let me go. He's afraid that I won't return. I will, though. I don't want to start a chase, only to drag Rue into this. Besides, if I come back this time, it might build some trust with Cato. He could ease up on me, so that when the time comes, and it undoubtedly will, I'll have an easier time finding an opportunity to leave.

I hold his gaze, staring right back at him, daring him to stop me.

"I'll be waiting," he says in a mildly threatening tone that the others don't notice.

I bet he doesn't want to let the others know that he's afraid of me leaving. It could raise unwanted questions.

In any case, I know what Cato means. If I don't return, he's coming for me.

Still, I feel incredibly victorious knowing I have his consent and that he isn't coming with me. I won't have much time, but it will be enough to give Rue the supplies.

I jog back to the fire and kneel in front of the dying girl. Sure enough, she's still breathing. At least she's unconscious. Cato's stab wasn't fatal, and he didn't puncture any crucial organs. It would take hours for this girl to bleed out. As brutal as he is, Cato doesn't know much about hunting.

Before I finish her off, though, I look up for Rue and spot her in the same tree.

"Hey," I call to her softly. "I brought some supplies."

I know she can hear me, but she doesn't budge from the tree. I don't blame her. I walk to her instead.

Under the tree, I unzip my backpack and retrieve the sleeping bag, laying it out on the ground. I then pull out the loaf of bread, water purification pills, rope and knife and place them on the sleeping bag. Rue watches me all the while.

"I'm going to have to kill her," I say to Rue, pointing back at the dying girl. "She's dying anyway. Once the hovercraft is gone, you should take these supplies and leave."

"Why are you helping me?" Rue blurts out.

Her shyness reminds me of Prim, and I can't help but smile.

"Just because I'm with the Careers doesn't mean I can't have other allies," I say.

It's true. I need to have an exit plan because the Careers are volatile, and they've already begun arguing with each other in earnest. We won't ever be as successful as we were today, what with the shrunken pool of tributes, and I'm not looking forward to hanging out with a bunch of antsy Careers. As Haymitch said, I'm going to have to get out of there, and I'll know when. Besides, I detest most of them. The only one I can remotely trust is Cato.

"You want me for an ally?" she asks hesitantly.

I actually like Rue. She's a survivor, like me.

"Much more than my current group," I reassure her. "But I can't leave, not yet. Listen, I wanted to give this stuff to Peeta. You don't have to though. I want you to have it. But if you find him, if you could just make sure he's okay…"

"I've seen him," Rue says immediately. "He's down by the river."

"Well you can trust him, I think," I say. "Now I have to get back, or the others will get suspicious and come after me. Just keep hiding and I'll do my best to keep them away from you."

Rue nods fervently.

"You're not joking about wanting me for an ally?" she whispers.

"No, I mean it," I say with a small smile.

And for the first time in the Games, I feel warm and happy when Rue smiles back.


	7. Fire and Ice

A/N: Thank you to my reviewers who have their PM feature disabled: **once and future** and **HeyyWhatsup **and to my anonymous reviewers: **anon**, **Scarlet**, **Anna**, **OneLiner**, **meredith** and **Cassie**!

* * *

><p><em>And for the first time in the Games, I feel warm and happy when Rue smiles back.<em>

My business here isn't done yet, though. I turn back to the dying girl from District 8 with a grimace. I don't particularly enjoy the sight of blood, and this is going to be very messy.

Using the other knife I brought with me, I sever the girl's internal jugular in one swift stroke. She's already lost consciousness, but now she will bleed out in less than two minutes. I move away quickly; only the front of my jacket is sprayed with her blood.

The deed is done.

I walk back to the others, who are eagerly waiting for me. I survey their faces for any sign of suspicion, but they seem to be clueless of my meeting with Rue.

"Was she dead?" Cato asks roughly.

He's not going to like my answer, knowing that she was still alive and that he wasn't the one who dealt the deathly blow. My kill count keeps increasing against my will.

"She would have died eventually," I say, somewhat dodging his question. Hopefully that will appease him. "But she's dead now."

Sure enough, the cannon goes off. Soon, Rue can pick up the supplies and be on her way.

Clove eyes Cato warily, and I'm reminded of what she said about him getting angry. Fortunately, Cato only shrugs in response.

"The sun's starting to rise," Marvel says with a tone of uneasiness.

We don't have the advantage of surprise anymore; these goggles will soon be useless, and other tributes will be able to see us as easily as we see them. And when they see us out here, they'll realize we've left our supplies relatively unguarded. I don't see the girl from District 4 defending our loot from more than one other tribute.

"Let's head back to camp," Cato says, reading my mind.

This time, we set off at a run – a pace that I prefer because it means there won't be any talking along the way. Also, I don't have to worry about Cato wanting to hold my hand.

When we get back, I'm stunned to see the girl from District 4 curled up on the ground, sleeping. The good news is that all our supplies are still intact and accounted for, as far as I can tell. The bad news is that Cato is still in a foul mood, and he's not pleased with the slumbering girl.

Stomping his way over to her, Cato kicks the girl sharply in the ribs. Marvel winces, and I cringe inwardly, too.

"Ow," she cries out, waking up. Holding onto her side, she says: "What was that for?"

Not the best choice of words and certainly not what I would have said. Then again, I wouldn't have fallen asleep on my watch.

"Sleeping on the job," Cato snarls.

He delivers another blow, and it brings tears of pain to the girl. One more kick, and he might hurt her beyond recovery.

"I'm sorry," she sobs. "I got tired."

Again, not the explanation I would have given. It's a terrible excuse. She should just own up to it and then shut up because at this rate, she's not going to make it another hour in the Games. I don't know how she has such a knack for angering Cato.

"What do you think we were doing?" Cato shouts. "Taking a nap in the woods? We killed another tribute while you slept. You're completely useless."

He's about to kick her again, and likely fatally injure her, when I speak out.

"Hey, all our stuff's here, so there's no harm done," I say.

Cato turns to me, his fists clenched. He's breathing heavily, and I can tell he doesn't care, that he wants to lash out on this girl. I can see in his eyes that he wants to kill her.

He's angry, and I mean really angry, just like what Clove warned me about. I've never seen him like this. When he was mad at me, he didn't hurt me physically, though he did corner and kiss me. Somehow, even now it seems like he's holding back, like he's trying hard to keep his emotions under control for me. But why? I'm certainly glad he hasn't entirely lost it. Part of me hopes I never have to witness that.

"We're going to need someone to guard our supplies when we go out again so she's going to need the rest of her ribs," Clove adds dryly. It seems she wants to pacify Cato as much as I do. "Besides, she's not going to make the same mistake again. Isn't that right?"

Though she is undoubtedly in a world of pain, she nods furiously. Poor girl. I hope for her sake that Cato didn't injure any of her internal organs, though it would be evident by now. She's walking on thin ice, her usefulness quickly wearing out. Like the girl who lit the fire, she is mostly at fault. I suppose that, though we exerted more energy, her job was much more boring, hence her falling asleep. But it's no excuse for stupidity. She's not going to last much longer here if she can't keep up with the rest of us.

Cato is still scowling, but he walks away from the girl, kicking a cooking pot from the pile of supplies instead. Better the pot than the girl. Somehow, Clove and I have managed to stave off a disastrous tantrum. With his temper, Cato is a lot more frightening than I thought.

Since the altercation is over, it's finally time for the rest of us to get some sleep. Cato volunteers for the first shift to watch over us and the supplies. It's clear that he's still seething with anger and isn't anywhere close to tired. I don't know how he does it. He's relentless, his energy never wavering. I may be the best hunter here, but I'm exhausted.

My sleeping bag is laid out between Cato's and the girl from District 4's. I'm not exactly thrilled about sleeping next to Cato. Who knows if he's going to try to make a move or something while I'm asleep? But it's better than being in close proximity to Clove, Glimmer or Marvel. I don't have to worry about Cato slitting my throat in the middle of the night. Nor do I have any concerns about the injured girl next to me, who isn't going to be able to stand up on her own, much less lift up a knife to kill me.

"Can you breathe?" I whisper to her.

We're out of earshot from the others, who have fallen fast asleep. I don't doubt though that they're all light sleepers.

"What?" she says.

The girl seems surprised that I'm talking to her and especially that it's not in a demeaning way. Unlike the others, I want to help her because I pity her. But at the same time I don't want the others to see me talking to her. I can't associate myself with her because she is careless and could bring me down as well.

"Do you have any difficulty breathing?" I ask.

I've seen my mother treat people with broken ribs before. It's not like a normal broken bone, like the femur, that you can set with a cast. There's really not much you can do for a broken rib. Fortunately, surgery isn't necessary unless the rib is completely crushed or a lung has been punctured. Otherwise you just let the rib heal on its own.

"No, it just hurts a lot," she whispers back.

"Good," I say. "That means your lungs haven't been punctured. Sleep on your back and not your side."

She nods in return and thanks me for saving her life.

"Don't thank me," I say because I don't want this girl depending on me. She's not a survivor, and she's in over her head. "You're alive because he thinks you're still useful. Make sure not to fall asleep again when it's your watch or else that will change."

* * *

><p><em>I wake up, startled by the sound of a stampede – running footsteps, yells and cries. I get up and frantically look around me, but the other sleeping bags are empty. Where is everyone else? What is going on? Somehow I'm all alone.<em>

_I grab my bow and arrows, which are lying next to me, and rush to the outside of the Cornucopia._

_I gasp at the sight before me and am paralyzed in fear. There they are – all the tributes, all 23 of them, running towards me with axes, swords and knives, yelling at the top of their lungs. Even the Careers are with them – Cato, Clove, Marvel, Glimmer, and the girl from District 4._

_They're all coming for me._

_Panicking, I reach into my sheath for an arrow and shoot down my first victim, Foxface, right through the neck. She falls to the ground, her red hair cascading down around her shoulders as the blood pours out of the grotesque hole in her neck._

_I continue to release arrow after arrow, one after another. My arm is sore, and I begin to grow tired. Surely my sheath must be empty by now, but somehow it seems to refill on its own. Every time I reach back, my fingers find an arrow. And my enemies keep coming, never quite reaching me and yet never completely dying._

_I scream at them to stop, to leave me alone. I don't want to kill any of them! But they continue sprinting towards me, their faces twisted into cruel, hungry expressions. And so I have to kill them over and over again._

_Crying, tears streaming down my face, I kill Peeta, Rue, Cato – all of them. In the end, the grass surrounding me is a sea of red, and there are dead bodies strewn everywhere._

_I collapse onto my knees, sobbing. I can taste the saltiness of my tears, the bitterness of victory. I did it; I won, now let me go home._

_I look up into the sky and down comes the hovercraft. Except it doesn't pick me up. It lands and Prim, my mother and Gale emerge, walking towards me with disappointed faces._

"_Why did you do it Katniss?" Prim asks me quietly. "Why did you kill everyone?"_

"_I had to do it!" I plea. "I had to – to win for you."_

"_You're a murderer, Katniss," Gale shakes his head. "No one from District 12 would ever stoop as low as joining the Careers, but you did. You did, and then you killed them all."_

"_Murderer," my mom whispers._

"_Killer," Prim says._

"_He would have killed me if I said no," I cry. I'm choking on my words; I'm drowning in my tears. "I had to do it. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry…"_

* * *

><p>"Wake up, Katniss," a voice whispers in my ear.<p>

Someone is shaking my shoulder.

My eyelids flutter open, and I gasp for air. What's going on? I look around and there's Cato standing above me, very much alive. Was it all just a dream? The others are snoring in their sleeping bags. I'm not alone. It was only a nightmare.

I rub my face and realize that it's streaked with real tears. Cato definitely just saw me crying. That's humiliating.

"Bad dream?" he asks.

To my surprise, there's no hint of arrogance or sarcasm. If the others witnessed this, they would never let me live it down. All my credibility would be washed down the drain by my crocodile tears.

"Uh, yeah," I croak, feeling quite embarrassed.

"Here, I know what will help," Cato says, extending his hand to me. Then, smirking like the Cato I know: "Or are you still not willing to hold my hand?"

Though Cato terrified me with his brutal beating of the girl from District 4, he's only been kind to me so far. And for some reason he hasn't made a single comment about seeing me cry. I was probably thrashing around, too. Hopefully I didn't say anything embarrassing. Prim tells me I do talk in my sleep sometimes.

So I take Cato's hand and let him help me up. He has huge hands that feel coarse and calloused. I am a doll in comparison to him. He could crush my bones so easily.

I hastily let go and follow Cato outside.

I watch him as he reaches into the food pile and pulls out a paper packet. Cato then retrieves a thermos full of water that he must have boiled earlier, still piping hot I gather from the rising steam. He pours some of the water into a tin cup, opens the packet, which is full of brown powder, and adds it to the water, mixing the concoction with a spoon. I'm not quite sure what this is – some kind of tea that is supposed to calm me down? I've never seen tea leaves crushed into such fine powder before.

"Drink this," he says, handing me the warm cup. "Be careful though. It's hot."

I eye the cup warily.

"What is it?" I ask hesitantly.

Is he trying to drug me? He wouldn't be so blatant about it, unless that's his ploy.

"It's hot chocolate," he chuckles. Apparently he finds my paranoia amusing. Sorry I have a hard time trusting a guy who nearly beat one of our allies to death. "Kind of like what they had in the Capitol. It's made of cocoa powder with sugar instead of pure melted chocolate. There's not much chocolate lying around here, but this stuff tastes pretty good. I had some earlier."

It takes me awhile to comprehend what is happening. Did Cato really just make me hot chocolate? I must still be dreaming.

I blow on the steaming drink and carefully take a sip. It does taste a lot like what I had in the train on the way to the Capitol, except less rich. It's calming.

"It's good," I say. "Thanks."

Cato shrugs in response. I suppose the words 'you're welcome' don't exist in his vocabulary.

"What was your dream about?" he asks, watching me carefully as he pours his own cup of hot chocolate.

I'm not the most social person, but I'm guessing that telling him I dreamt of murdering everyone here over and over again isn't the best conversation material.

"I can't remember," I lie.

Cato takes a swig of his drink. I have some more of mine; the warmth trickles down my throat, soothing my nerves. I wish we had this powder back home. This could double for a meal.

"You kept apologizing in your dream," he says. "And you were crying."

He sounds uncomfortable. I'm not quite sure why Cato wants to talk about this. And with that comment he has essentially confessed to watching me sleep.

"I probably dreamt of my family then," I reply.

That much is true.

Cato is silent for a few moments.

"You volunteered for your sister," he says.

It's not a question, but a statement.

"Yes," I say.

What does he want to know?

"Why do you worry about her? She has her mother," Cato says.

He only mentions my mother, not my father. He must have watched the tapes of the reaping and realized my father wasn't around. If Cato remembers such a small detail, just how long has he had his eye on me?

I don't know how I feel about telling Cato details of my personal life. Except there is no one else to talk to around here; the other Careers aren't great for conversing with, to say the least. And for some reason, I want to get some of this off my chest. Cato has been strangely kind, not a word I would normally use to describe him, and it's only fair that I try to open up in return. I'm sure it's what our audience wants.

"My father died in a mining accident – an explosion," I say. This will surely garner sympathy from the Capitol citizens. "After that, my mother fell into depression, and I had to take care of her and my sister. If I die, I'm afraid my mother won't be there for Prim."

What I really mean is that I think my mother is going to fall into depression again, if she hasn't already, and neglect Prim as she once did. Gale is there to help my family, but I feel an immense pressure to win this because I could provide such a better life for them, all of them, and I need to be there for Prim while she's growing up. Gale is great, but I'm her older sister.

Cato doesn't say anything at first. For once, I can't read the expression on his face. He seems thoughtful, like he's trying to work out a difficult arithmetic problem.

"You're used to taking care of people," he says.

Again, not a question, but a statement. He's trying very hard to decipher my underlying motives.

"I suppose," I shrug.

I'm obviously not the coldblooded killer that he is, but at the same time I'm apparently quite capable of killing. So I'm not quite sure why it matters that I take care of my family back home. I don't know where this conversation is going.

"Is that why you helped her?" Cato nods towards the girl from District 4.

I stiffen at his question. So this is what he was getting at. Did he somehow hear our conversation? That's impossible. Cato must still be angry with me for intervening.

"Like Clove said, we need someone to guard the supplies," I say.

It's a half-truth, but I'm a terrible liar, and Cato knows it.

"That's not why you helped her," he says, though it's not in an accusatory tone.

I'm irritated that Cato is so keen on cornering me into telling him my secrets. He's searching long and hard for my weakness, and he's onto it. He could make my life very miserable if he finds out about my compassion for my victims. I'm sure he could make it so that I never sleep another night.

"Why does it matter?" I snap.

Cato raises his hands in mock surrender, as if his intentions are benign, his questions innocent. He's acting like I'm overreacting, except I'm not.

"I'm just trying to understand you," he says. "You saved Peeta and the girl. Why? And why them?"

If only he knew I saved Rue, too.

I want to shout at him, to ask him why he wants to understand me, to tell him I don't know how he can break someone's ribs one second and make me hot chocolate the next, expecting me to simply tell him about my dreams, my personal life, my thoughts. And to top it off, I'm positive he's only pretending to care because he's supposed to be in love with me, when in reality he's trying to figure out the best way to destroy me.

"Why did you save me?" I retort. It's not fair for him to call me out like that. "Help me understand _you_. Why me and not anyone else?"

That shuts him up real quick. He looks away, tugging at the grass around him. It's clear he doesn't have an answer.

But then he speaks.

"I don't want you to die," Cato says quietly. "Everyone else could drop dead for all I care, but I don't know. You're…you're good."

Good? Good at what, protecting my sister from my mother? Good at killing people?

"The others, they think this is all fun and games," Cato continues, and I detect a note of disgust. I'm surprised to hear him say that because Cato has been joining in on all the cheering and jeering. "The way they act, you'd think they're back at school. They're not even that good – they don't hold a candle to you and me. I do what I have to do to keep them in line because for now they're somewhat useful. I pretend to like them, but I really can't stand them. It's like every second I'm around them I'm resisting the urge to wring their necks. They just don't get it, you know? They don't have it in them to win. You and I are here for one reason and one reason only: to win."

Haymitch wasn't lying when he said Cato sees me as his number one threat. Now that Cato has admitted it, though, it doesn't make sense why he saved me. It doesn't explain anything. In fact, it only confuses me more.

"So then shouldn't you let me die?" I say sarcastically.

Cato shakes his head. Okay, I honestly don't get it.

"You don't understand. You and I are great together. Look at us – combined, we've taken out two thirds of our competition," Cato says. I can hear the enthusiasm in his voice. After a pause, he adds bitterly: "What would I do without you? Listen to Marvel's brownnosing, Glimmer's incessant chatter and Clove's bitchiness?"

Wait, is Cato saying that he needs me?

All of a sudden, I feel a pang of guilt for setting up an alliance with Rue behind Cato's back. I never realized that Cato detested the others as much as I do. He saved me because I'm all he has until the end, but I'm not dependent on him. I have Rue and Peeta. That's why he's so adamant about keeping me with him. It's why he won't let me go. And here I am plotting ways to get out of here.

For a moment, I can even share the same vision as Cato – the two of us hunting down the other tributes like oil and vinegar. I can picture Cato slaying people left and right without a second thought, his heart frozen to his victims. And me, the girl on fire, mercifully taking down my prey, yet being ever so efficient with my bow and arrows.

"What I don't understand is why you saved the two of them," Cato sighs in irritation. "They haven't killed a single person. And that girl over there wouldn't help you if you were in her place."

I notice he leaves out Peeta. Either Cato actually believes that Peeta is in love with me or he doesn't want to tip off our watchers that this love triangle might not be real.

"Peeta once saved my family. I owe him," I say. I don't know why I'm telling Cato this. It's so private, something that no one, not even my family or Gale, knows except for Peeta and me. "And as for her, I don't know… I'm just not like you."

"What do you mean?" Cato asks.

I have to figure out a way to say this without sounding too sympathetic and weak.

"She messed up – I get it," I say, though I really feel that no harm was done. I personally wouldn't have punished her for that, but then again I'm not Cato. "I would have… understood if you had simply killed her. There are six of us, half of everyone left, and so people have to go. I get that. But you saw me out there fighting. I shoot to kill and that's all. I don't have any desire to torture my victims. I'm a hunter, not a tormentor."

Cato considers my explanation for a few moments. The two of us sit silently, finishing our hot chocolate.

"You don't get any satisfaction out of your triumph, your victory? Don't you revel in the power?" Cato asks.

It's strange hearing Cato's side. There's this gap of understanding between us, though it's really a canyon. He can't fathom sympathy for our victims, whereas I can't begin to imagine taking pleasure in hurting others. And yet here we are, both of us trying immensely hard to put ourselves in each other's shoes.

"I'll admit that I felt…proud of my accomplishments," I say, for lack of a better word. I cringe at my admission, hoping my family isn't disappointed in me the way they were in my dream. They might hate me after this. I had buried the thought, not wanting to acknowledge it, but Cato is forcing me to be honest with myself. "But when we found that girl by the fire, and she was begging for her life, I felt sick. I don't take pleasure in people's suffering. I didn't feel remotely proud then. By starting the fire, she practically committed suicide."

Cato sighs and ruffles his hair.

"I agree that killing, or severely wounding, her wasn't an accomplishment," Cato admits. "I guess we're different in that way. I enjoy killing. I was made for this. You don't like it, but you're good at it, better than everyone else."

I nod. Agree to disagree. Cato trained all his life for the Games, while I was only focused on saving my family from starvation. Maybe if I had the same upbringing as Cato's, I would be a lot more like him, ruthless and unforgiving. Now that I understand where he's coming from and, to a certain degree, what goes on in his head, I can't dislike him the way I did before. He told me his true feelings and was honest with me, as I was with him. I didn't think it was possible, but I actually _know_ him now, and he knows me.

Something has changed between us.

There's trust, understanding, and respect.


	8. Slingshot

A/N: Thank you to all my reviewers, to those who have their PM feature disabled: **Lady Clare Boleyn** and to my anonymous reviewers: **Cassie**,** Leah**,** Anna**,** meredith**,** anonymoose**,** greeensocks**,** iStoleallyourjelly**, and** Mockingjay14**!

* * *

><p><em>There's trust, understanding, and respect.<em>

We sit silently for several minutes, our minds still absorbing the fact that we actually opened up to each other. I would have never spilled those secrets or been that honest with anyone else. After all, this is the Hunger Games. But I see Cato as he sees me – an equal. And what's the point in hiding who we really are when we already know each other's strengths and have been sizing each other up since the beginning, Cato obviously more so than me?

It doesn't matter if he knows who I really am, since, more likely than not, we're all going to die anyway. And honestly, I think all of us severely underestimated the emptiness, the sheer loneliness of fighting in the Games, the suffocation of being constantly on guard and watched, never knowing who to trust and for how long. The others cope by pretending this is all fun and games, but I'm not like them and apparently neither is Cato. Haymitch couldn't prepare me for this. Since the odds are that I'm going to die here, why not be honest with myself? It's better than the alternative – denying my last bit of humanity.

I can't tell what Cato's thinking, but I don't get the vibe that he he regrets our momentary lapse. It's as if a weight has been lifted off my chest. There's no need to constantly pretend around Cato, at least not when it's just the two of us. With his bitter comments about playing along with the others, I'm sure he feels the same way.

"I'm going to get some rest before we head into the woods again," Cato says, breaking the silence. He stands up and extends his hand. "You good with taking the next watch?"

I nod and let him help me up. This time there aren't any snarky comments.

I don't mind taking the next shift because I have no desire to fall asleep, only to be reeled back into my nightmares. Cato caught me crying and talking in my sleep this time. Needless to say, I don't want anyone else witnessing it. Besides, I had plenty of rest.

I walk back with Cato to retrieve my backpack and weapons. No one will be stealing our supplies or attacking us on my watch.

"Have fun," Cato smirks, back to his usual self.

He zips up his sleeping bag and turns onto his side.

I roll my eyes. We both know this is going to be boring because no sane person would come to the Cornucopia while we're here. But on the other hand, if none of us were to be on guard, they would definitely try to kill us in our sleep. So the only option is to sit around idly. Although I suppose I could brew another cup of hot chocolate and nibble on some breakfast. Cato's already been through the food pile, but second pickings are better than last.

Taking another packet of cocoa powder, I finish off the rest of the hot water in the thermos. I peruse the food pile and opt for some fruit. Might as well eat it while it's still fresh.

I've just finished my banana, which I'm sure Haymitch is glad I'm eating because of the rich potassium content, when I hear a rustling in the trees. My head immediately snaps up. Of course there's nothing to be seen. The sound came from much deeper in the forest.

I hesitate, unsure if I should trust my ears. When you're alone in the nature, sometimes your imagination runs wild in an attempt to fill the void. With all my hunting experience, I'm quite good at picking out sounds though, and my instinct tells me that someone is there.

I hear it again. This time it's much more pronounced, loud footsteps snapping twigs and crunching leaves. There's definitely someone there.

What should I do?

I weigh the option of waking the others.

The benefit, of course, is that it will ensure my safety. I don't like the idea of walking into the unknown, especially when whoever is in the forest is undoubtedly waiting for me. This could easily be a trap.

The downside, however, is that the Careers could mock me and lose respect for me if it ends up being an easy kill. After all, with my bow and arrows, this shouldn't be an issue, so long as I'm careful and it isn't a group of tributes trying to ambush me, which it certainly doesn't sound like it. Right now, the Careers don't bother me. In fact, they actually listened to me. It's only because they respect me, though, and if I cry wolf, that will soon change.

And I'll admit it. I don't like swallowing my pride any more so than Cato does. I don't ask for help – that's not me. I took care of Prim and my mother by myself.

But there's more than my pride at stake. What if it's Rue out there? Maybe she needs more supplies. I can't see her and Peeta finishing off the bread so quickly though. They're smart and would have rationed it. Still, I have to consider that as an option. The last time I heard a similar sound, it had been Rue in the trees. Needless to say, I don't want my allies here to run into my new ally.

I sneak back to the pile of food with my backpack in tow. I begin filling it up with some more fruit, beef jerky and packets of dried porridge and soup. Peeta and Rue will need a pot to cook the latter, so I grab the pot that Cato kicked earlier. We have no shortage of cooking supplies, so no one will notice.

Once I'm packed, I string my bow. I'm ready to release an arrow at any moment. I take a deep breath and proceed to walk towards the forest, away from my sleeping comrades. Hopefully, I'm not trigger-happy and accidentally shoot Peeta or Rue, if it is indeed them. I think fleetingly if it could possibly be one of the Careers and quickly dismiss the thought. I can't remember if all the sleeping bags were full, but I would have seen or at least heard anyone leaving the Cornucopia.

I enter the forest and begin taking ginger steps, not wanting to give away my location. Whoever is in here may have been watching me, though, in which case I would be the one being hunted. I try not to think about that. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to investigate this by myself after all.

As I continue deeper in the woods, the trees shroud me. There's not a chance that my allies can see me from the Cornucopia. The silence in the forest begins to bothers me because I feel like I'm being watched. It shouldn't be this quiet.

"Rue?" I whisper. There's no response. "Peeta?"

I'm starting to regret my decision to come in here alone. I don't even know if the others can hear me from here, not when they're sound asleep. And even if they could hear me, would they come in time, if at all?

Forget my pride. I can't believe I let the Careers rub off on me like this, with their arrogance and self-confidence. This is my fault. How could I forget? Allowing your pride to get in the way of making smart decisions is such an elementary mistake that I can't believe I fell for it. I've seen Careers in previous years die from hubris. I should have known better.

Rue and Peeta aren't here. It's so painfully obvious that this is a trap, or at least that's what my instinct tells me. I just hope it isn't Thresh because he would rip me in half before I could scream.

I start backing up in earnest, ready to abandon this absurd mission of mine. I turn around, about to set off at a run, when a rock whizzes by my head. What the –?

I should keep running, but my natural reaction is to turn around, to see who my attacker is. To shoot them.

It's too late though. I've only pivoted halfway when I'm sent tumbling to the ground, my arms pinned behind me. How did I not hear my attacker? My bow clatters to my side, now useless. I don't have any advantage when it comes to hand-to-hand combat, and I'm in a compromising position. The taste of dirt fills my mouth.

My curiosity is literally killing me. Who is my attacker?

My question is answered as I'm flipped onto my back.

_What_?

"Glimmer?" I say in shock.

Glimmer is sitting on top of me, her knees painfully grinding my arms into the ground. Holding a slingshot in one hand, she grins at me triumphantly.

I should be furious at her for betraying me like this. And I am. I should also be yelling my head off to alert my other allies. But my initial reaction is: A slingshot? _Really_?

Her grin instantly vanishes and is replaced with a scowl.

"What's wrong with a slingshot?" she snaps.

I didn't realize I said that aloud.

Cato has his sword, Marvel his spear, Clove her knives, and me my bow. Glimmer picks a _slingshot_? Okay, so the girl from District 4 only has her bruised if not broken ribs and perhaps a mild form of narcolepsy, but this is beyond mortifying. If I had to choose between my current predicament or being gutted with a knife by the boy from District 5 at the start of the Games, I wouldn't even have to think about it. I would choose the latter. I was defenseless then. Here, Glimmer somehow snuck up on me, disarmed me and is now going to take me out with a slingshot.

If it's at all possible to feel insulted in this situation, well, I do.

"How did you-" I start to ask, but then the answer dawns on me.

When I went back to the Cornucopia to retrieve my bow and arrows after my conversation with Cato, I hadn't surveyed all of the sleeping bags. After all, these are supposed to be my allies, the girl pinning me down included, so I didn't think twice about it. But Glimmer's sleeping bag could have already been empty by then. For all I know, she may have slipped out while Cato and I were talking. Neither Cato nor I would have been paying enough attention to notice.

"Starting to put the pieces together?" Glimmer laughs.

I've certainly figured out how she managed to sneak up on me, but I don't understand why she's doing this. She never gave away any clue that she was going to betray me. Although Clove did warn me that not everyone was excited about me being here.

"Why?" I blurt out because I need to know.

Glimmer's eyes twinkle with laughter. I hate how she's treating me like the girl who built the fire, but then again I feel just as foolish. Glimmer pulls out a knife from a side pocket in her cargo pants and holds the blade to my throat.

"You're really stupid. Do you think Cato actually cares about you?" she says. She leans forward and whispers in my ear: "He sent me here to _kill_ you."

Wait, what?

"No!" I cry out, and Glimmer laughs again.

I don't believe it, not a word of it. I don't care what Glimmer says. Cato opened up to me back there and told me he didn't want me to die. And I believed it – all of it. He wasn't lying. He couldn't have been.

Unless Cato was distracting me while Glimmer snuck out, only to have her lure me out here to be slaughtered. He did confess that he thought I was the best of the bunch, and my first thought was that he should want me dead. Maybe this is his way of getting rid of me without taking on the risk of being injured or killed himself. It's cowardly, which doesn't seem like his style, but cunning.

_"Have fun__."_

Is this what he was referring it - Glimmer ambushing me in the woods? I don't see why would Glimmer lie to me right before she's about to slit my throat.

My mind is racing with a million thoughts, and I'm not sure what to believe.

All I know is that I won't let Glimmer take me down without a fight.

I spit in Glimmer's face, and she yelps in surprise. A girl like her would care about appearances first. In that brief moment she pulls her hand back to wipe my saliva off her face, I swing my hips and use all the strength in my arms to throw her off of me. It works – I send her crashing to the ground.

Glimmer swings the knife at me, and it's clear she's inept with it. If she stabbed at me, in such close proximity I wouldn't be able to avoid it, and a deep wound like that would have been the end of me. Instead, I arch back and mostly avoid the blade, though it still grazes my arm. The pain is searing hot, but I don't have time to worry about the deepness of the cut right now. First, I need to win this fight.

I grab Glimmer's wrist, the one holding the knife, and fend off the next swipe she takes at me. I ball my other hand into a fist and punch her as hard as I can in the face. She cries out in pain, even though there's no way that hurt as much as the cut she gave me. It does make me feel a tinge better knowing I appear braver than she does. And even if I die, I'll gain some satisfaction knowing that Glimmer won't be so pretty after this.

We're still fighting over the knife when I hear yelling from afar. Great. Cato and the others have come to finish me off. But it doesn't matter if they get here before I'm able to escape because I'm determined to fight to the end. Let it be known that it took an entire crew of Careers to take me down.

Glimmer and I are wrestling on the forest floor, our bodies covered in dirt and blood. Our limbs are a tangled mess as we constantly shift and move. One minute she's on top, and the next I've flipped her over. The two of us scramble over the knife – clawing, punching, and kneeing each other.

The yells grow louder, and I can hear Cato. I detect the anger in his voice; he's undoubtedly upset with Glimmer for taking so long to kill me. Well he should have manned up and done it himself.

I'm finally able to wrench the knife from Glimmer's grasp. I try to stab her in the neck, but Glimmer pins my wrist down and wraps her other hand around my throat, cutting off my air circulation. She's only bigger and stronger than me because she's a Career and has never gone without food.

I thrash in frustration and anger, upset that this talentless, spoiled girl with a ridiculous name has somehow taken me down with a slingshot. I don't want to go out like this. It was a mistake to have joined the Careers!

And then both of Glimmer's hands fall limp. I'm about to jab her in the neck with the knife when I see it: a bloodied spear pierced through her stomach, only an inch from mine. I shove her off of me, and she slumps unceremoniously to the ground.

Well, Cato missed. With the two of us tumbling on the forest floor, I'm surprised he even took a shot. Obviously he doesn't value Glimmer's life any more than he values mine because it seems like he was trying to kill two birds with one stone or more specifically one spear.

Cato, Clove and Marvel are closing in now. I can see them glance between Glimmer and me. They're a wall blocking me from the Cornucopia. That's fine by me. I jump up and grab my bow and sheath of arrows. I somehow still have my backpack on me, though one of the straps is torn. I'm sure all the fruit has been crushed.

I slink backwards slowly, not wanting to tempt them to chase me. Like animals, their instinct is to take down anything that runs away from them. I can't run off while they're watching me. I keep my eyes trained on them the entire time while anticipating their next move. I'm not going to make the same mistake I did with Glimmer, leaving my back an open target.

Cato, Clove and Marvel weren't fast enough to take away my weapons, but there's no way I can take down all three of them before they get to me. Escaping is the only option I have. Thankfully, their attention is fixed on their true ally, Glimmer, who is close to death. Though it wasn't my kill, I'm happy to know that I took part in her demise.

Once the opportunity arises, I must flee.

Glimmer shoots one last pitiful look towards Marvel, her fellow tribute from District 1, who shakes his head. She tries to speak, but spits out blood instead.

"You brought this upon yourself," Clove says to Glimmer, though her eyes flicker to me.

I'm sure Clove is disgusted by Glimmer's failure.

But for some reason, Clove warned me about this. She knew Cato was going to betray me, and more importantly, that he would send one of the others to try to kill me. Not everyone is excited about me being here. I can certainly see that. And Clove specifically said that Cato was irritated at me for saving Peeta, that I hadn't seen him when he was angry.

He is now.

I have to get out of here.

Cato reaches down to Glimmer and forcefully yanks the spear out of her body. While the blood spurting out of her body momentarily distracts the others, who enjoy the violence and death, I whip around and take off, sprinting as fast as my legs can carry me. I don't need to look back to know that Glimmer is dead and I am Cato's next target - that spear is for me. If I can get myself out of range, the spear might miss me. I for one know how difficult it is to take down a moving target.

That is Clove's specialty though, isn't it? But she warned me, so she must not want me dead. She said she was trying to help me, and I didn't listen. It doesn't matter anymore. She can't help me now. The good news is that I don't hear any of her knives whizzing towards me.

I'm practically flying, my feet barely touching the ground before they're in the air again. For once my light weight puts me at an advantage. I might have no chance when it comes to wrestling, but with only have a moment's head start, they won't be able to catch me. I can't say the same for their weapons, though.

I can hear Cato's heavy footsteps behind me. It doesn't sound like anyone else is with him, which increases my chances of survival. However, he's much too close for my liking, and I'm bracing for the moment he throws that spear of his, coated with Glimmer's blood and guts. He's cursing and shouting my name. He sounds like he's completely lost it.

His footsteps gradually die away, and soon I'm sure the window of opportunity to kill me has closed. He should have taken the shot while he could have. There's no way he can see me now.

I can still hear Cato's yells, though, and he sounds angrier than I've ever heard him.

"Katniss!" Cato shouts my name at the top of his lungs, the fury reverberating in his voice. It sends chills down my spine. "_Katniss_!"


	9. Optimistic

A/N: Thank you to my reviewers who have their PM feature disabled: **once and future **and **Diana-Wolf-Naturea** and to my anonymous reviewers: **beecouture**, **omg**, **asdfgh**, **Leah**, **Scarlet**, **Priscilla X. Silver**, **Mockingjay14**, **Cassie**, **OneLiner**, **Eyrie**, **silentxangel**, **alec voltori**, **anon**, **saph**, **Anna **and **meredith**!

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><p><em>"Katniss!"<em>

I'm an unstoppable force, running until my lungs are on fire. My legs no longer throb, but feel like a numb, melted mess. The cramp in my side comes and goes; I wouldn't have eaten as much as I did if I had known I would be running long-distance. Of course, I couldn't have prepared myself for Glimmer's ambush.

I hear the cannon signaling her death, and it gives me another burst of energy. That means the others have already cleared out.

Once I'm out of earshot from Cato's infuriated yells, which takes quite awhile because he chases me with the tenacity of a feral dog, my eyes begin to sting. I don't usually cry, so it takes me a minute to understand what is happening, and then I feel stupid. The tears stream down my face against my will.

I didn't have time back there to really come terms with Cato's betrayal, what with me fighting Glimmer off of me. But now, surrounded by silence in the forest, my heart feels like it's been stabbed. I actually _trusted_ Cato, the brutal monstrous boy from District 2. How did I let that happen? He coerced me into telling him some of my deepest, darkest secrets, my weaknesses, and then tried to kill me through Glimmer. With everyone watching me in the Capitol and at home, I'm sure I look like a pathetic, heartbroken girl. I shouldn't be crying. I should be stoic, hiding my emotions. But I can't help it, and the more I think about how weak I appear, the faster the tears come. It's a vicious cycle.

How _dare_ Cato make a fool out of me like this! I should have killed him back there. I don't know why I didn't. All I know is, when we meet again, only one of us will come out alive.

Finally I stop, resting my hands on my knees and taking short, quick breaths. I need to collect myself and get my emotions under control. Moreover, I have to figure out what my plans are. All this time I hadn't been thinking about what I was doing; I was simply putting as much distance as I could between me and the Careers, which I am no longer part of. It shouldn't bother me, but it does.

First things first, I need to inspect my wound.

I examine my arm with a grimace. I've never done well around blood, even if it's my own. Unfortunately my arm is covered in it, though not all of the blood belongs to me. The good news is that the bleeding has stopped, so I don't have to worry about blood loss. However, I can also see that the wound is still quite open. If I don't clean it, it could easily get infected.

My arm feels stiff, and it burns terribly. I'm not sure how great of a shot I'll be now. Hunting game won't be an issue, but defending myself against the Careers certainly will be.

My ears perk up at a most welcome sound – running water. There's definitely a stream or river nearby where I can wash off this blood.

Wait, the river! Rue said yesterday that she had seen Peeta by the river. I don't know if Rue found Peeta, and even if she did, I can't be sure that they're still there. But it's worth checking out, and besides, I do need to clean my wound.

I follow the sound and every once in awhile bend down to examine the dirt, which gets moister and moister. I'm quiet as can be, listening intently in case there are other tributes around like Foxface or Thresh. After Glimmer caught me off-guard, I'm determined not to let it happen again. I know the Careers are nowhere near me, though they could easily be following my tracks. Once I find the river, I'll be sure to swim a long way to lose them.

After ten more minutes of carefully treading on the damp ground, I push apart some branches.

There it is, sparkling under the sunlight like a thousand sapphires. The water is the clearest I've ever seen, though I dare not drink any of it without using purification pills. It's a beautiful sight.

Dropping my backpack, bow and sheath of arrows on the ground, I rush towards the river and, not even bothering to take off my jacket and shoes, splash into the cool water. It feels wonderful. For a moment, as I submerge myself headfirst, I let the water wash away my worries. Then I resurface, gasping for fresh air. I feel strangely rejuvenated.

I begin scrubbing the filth off my face, hair and clothes. The dry, caked-on mixture of dirt and blood swirls into the water and turns back into mud, creating clouds of red and brown, until the current washes it away, and the last remnants of Glimmer dissolve into the water.

I wince at the throbbing emanating from the cut on my arm. At least this isn't salt water.

I raise my arm and, now that I can, examine the cut closely. The skin is still split, though it isn't bleeding, and it's already puffy around the edges and somewhat inflamed. I suppose rubbing dirt into my wound didn't help, but it wasn't like I had a choice at the time. I curse under my breath. There's certainly useful antibiotics at the Cornucopia that would help me fight off this infection that has started – nothing heavy, but enough for the early stages. Except I can't exactly waltz in there.

I chew my bottom lip while considering my options. I suppose I could go back once night falls, since that's when the Careers will set out again. But Cato is smart. He'll be anticipating my return. After all, I know how weak their current set-up is – one injured girl watching over the whole loot. If anything, he may be setting up a trap for me. I can't return, not now.

Sighing, I trudge my way out of the water back onto the rocky bank and collect my backpack and weapons. It feels nice being clean, but the infection has dampened my mood. I went from having everything to having only the bow in my hand, the backpack on my shoulders, and the clothes on my body. I know that, in reality, I should be extremely grateful to be so well-armed and stocked, and I am. But it's different losing it all versus never having it in the first place. Now I know what I'm missing out on, and it bothers me because I fought for everything there, much more so than the Careers who presently occupy it.

Most importantly, if I don't get medicine, I could eventually die from this infection. I'm not sure if my immune system is good enough to fight this off and especially not in these conditions. I don't have the sleeping bag with me anymore, so unless I run into Peeta and Rue, tonight is going to be cold.

As I'm wringing out my jacket, I hear a faint beeping. I look up in the sky to see a silver parachute descending towards me.

Haymitch! He's sent me my first gift from my sponsors. I completely forgot about the support I have, which is the reason why I agreed to this disastrous love triangle in the first place. After all, I haven't needed anything up until now. I grin knowing that just because I'm out of the Career pack doesn't mean I'm out of the Games. The Capitol still wants to see me pick one of the boys. I'm sure they're devastated that there won't be any interaction between Cato and me for now, but hopefully I can make it up by finding Peeta.

A small, metal canister is attached to the parachute, and as it gets closer, I see that there's a little plastic bag taped to it. I snatch my package while it's still in the air and first open the canister. It has some sort of ointment, which I'm assuming is for my cut. I dip my fingers into it and spread the oily substance onto my arm.

The effect is incredible.

I gasp, watching as the wound closes. I immediately apply some more ointment, and new layers of skin begin to grow rapidly before my eyes. I continue until there's nothing left but a faint scar. I move my arm, bending the elbow, and don't detect any stiffness. My arm is whole again.

I realize I probably didn't need to heal my arm as much as I did, but thankfully there's still a decent amount left. Such medicine is precious, especially in the Games. I screw the cap back on and put the canister in my backpack.

I knew the Capitol had high-tech medicine, but I never dreamed of anything like this. It's unreal. If we had medicine like this back home that could accelerate healing, we could help so many people. Of course, this is only for the Capitol citizens, who will probably never in their life be injured on the job like our coal miners, and for those of us who are deemed to die in the Games. It's a waste.

I turn my focus next to the plastic bag. There are two pills – antibiotics, I assume. I'm about to take them when I notice small engravings on each pill.

The words on the first pill say: _Find Peeta_.

My heart freezes when I realize Haymitch is sending me messages illegally. Mentors aren't allowed to send written messages and especially not about the Games. Needless to say, it would give me an unfair advantage if I knew about other tributes' weaknesses or locations. If Haymitch got caught, he could be sentenced to death.

I don't want to draw any attention to the pill, so I quickly chew and swallow it. It leaves an unpleasant bitter flavor in my mouth. What, the scientists in the Capitol can create an ointment that accelerates healing, but they aren't capable of making pills taste better?

I glance down at the second pill as inconspicuously as I can and read his other message.

_Don't trust Clove._

Though I'm very confused, I keep an impassive face and toss the pill into my mouth.

Haymitch is trying to guide me, and he was smart not to reveal anything about the other tributes. It would appear suspicious if I acted on information I wasn't supposed to have. But I could do with a more detailed explanation of what Haymitch meant by his second message. I suppose he didn't have much room to work with.

Don't trust Clove?

I understand the first message just fine. It makes sense for Haymitch to want me to find Peeta. I need to balance the love triangle, and obviously going back to Cato is out of the question. I'd have to be suicidal to return to the Cornucopoia. But why did Haymitch tell me not to trust Clove? She's not the one who tried to kill me. In fact, Clove warned me about the others. Maybe in his drunken state Haymitch confused her with Glimmer, since they're both Careers. But Haymitch would have taken care when writing his message to me.

I frown, contemplating Haymitch's words. I wrack my brain for any kind of memory I might have overlooked where Clove acted suspiciously. I suppose her confrontation when I was packing supplies for Peeta was strange. She didn't snitch on me to Cato, and I never understood why.

Maybe that's it! Maybe she did tell Cato, and that's why he decided to send Glimmer to kill me. It would explain why he saved me in the bloodbath – that was before I snuck out the supplies. After then, he must have felt like he couldn't trust me anymore.

A voice from behind me interrupts my thoughts.

"Wow Katniss, you already received a gift from your sponsors? That's one more than we've gotten. You'd think the Cornucopia would have everything you need."

I turn around to see Peeta raising an eyebrow at me and Rue beaming by his side. She runs to me and gives me a hug, holding me tightly. I laugh and return her embrace. Her mirth is contagious.

"Katniss!" she says happily. "You got away!"

Looks like I've already fulfilled Haymitch's first request. Peeta and Rue found me. As for his second request, I don't plan on being around Clove anytime soon.

"Sure did," I reply. "How did you guys find me?"

Peeta nods to Rue, who hides behind me.

"This one's a real spy," Peeta says jokingly. "She was in the trees, spotted you here, and came to tell me. Apparently she watched me for hours this morning without me knowing before she decided to befriend me."

Rue giggles.

"I would have watched you even more, except you picked those poisonous berries," Rue says.

Peeta looks embarrassed.

"What poisonous berries?" I ask warily.

"The nightlock," Rue replies.

My eyes widen. Peeta nearly ate some nightlock berries? If I hadn't sent Rue to find him, he would be dead by now.

"Seriously? Peeta, what were you thinking?" I exclaim. "Don't you remember what we learned in training? Don't ever eat plants you can't identify. You have to be absolutely sure."

Peeta sighs and raises his hands.

"I know, I know. Rue already lectured me in length," Peeta says. "Anyway, I'm sure you've got a lot of news for us if you've already ditched the Careers on the second day. We should probably continue this back in the cave."

"Cave?" I ask.

Rue jumps up excitedly.

"It's our new hideout," she says, grinning. "You'll see!"

Oh no. My tracks will lead the Careers directly to the three of us. Though a cave sounds very promising, we can't walk there or else we'll just have to pack up and leave. This is all my fault. I didn't know their hideout was so close.

"The Careers might be following my tracks," I say. "We'll have to swim to lose them."

Rue shakes her head.

"There's no need," she says. "Here, watch me."

I follow Peeta and Rue alongside the river, with the forest to the right of us. Rue hops deftly from rock to rock like she's playing a game. Her movements are silent. I can see how she was able to spy on Peeta for so long. Peeta and I, on the other hand, aren't nearly as quick, and I almost fall twice.

"This way we won't leave any footprints!" Rue calls back to us. "They'll think you crossed the river. They won't think to look here."

Once we come across large boulders and the ground is no longer dirt, but flat pebbles, Rue leads the way, navigating us through the labyrinth of stones. Now she's extremely careful to avoid leaving any traces of dirt on the rocks, bouncing swiftly on the balls of her feet. We must be getting close to the cave. Neither Peeta nor I are coordinated enough to mimic her moves, so instead we take care to brush off the bottom of our shoes and to avoid stepping on any dirt.

We finally arrive at the cave, which is almost completely obscured by an enormous boulder in front of it. We are only able to enter from a narrow crack on the side.

"I moved the rock," Peeta says, and I can tell he's proud of it. It must have been difficult to move. "It took me hours. Anyway, we don't think anyone knows we're here."

This is the perfect hideout.

"We're going to keep it that way," I promise.

Inside, I see that Peeta and Rue have a nice set-up. I'm glad Rue found an undetectable path; otherwise I would have felt terrible if we had to move because of me. Both of them have sleeping bags laid out on the ground. Peeta must have found one in the duffel bag he took from the Cornucopia. I spot the bag in the back of the cave.

"Do you want some water?" Peeta tosses me his canteen. "Those purification pills you gave Rue sure came in handy. I tried to drink some of that river water when I first got here and, uh, that didn't go too well…"

I laugh and take several large gulps, finishing off the rest of the cool water. I didn't realize how thirsty I was. I suppose I did run for a long time.

"Here, I'll go get some more," Rue offers, taking the canteen from my grasp.

Better Rue than me. I don't think my legs could handle jumping on all those rocks again. The soreness is staring to hit me hard.

"Thanks," I say.

Once Rue is gone, Peeta turns to me.

"You want to tell me what happened?" Peeta says. "We heard the cannon a couple of hours ago. We were afraid it was you."

I sigh, not wanting to recount all the details.

"Cato tried to get Glimmer to kill me," I explain. "But she died, and I managed to get away."

Peeta's eyes widen and he looks over me to make sure I'm not injured. I appreciate his concern, but it's clearly an overkill. I'm obviously fine.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice laced with worry.

If he's this concerned, I can only imagine how he would have reacted to the way I looked before – hair matted down with blood, body covered in mud, wound festering. I would have given him a heart attack.

"I'm fine," I say. "Glimmer got me on the arm with her knife, but that's what the gift from my sponsors was for. See? It's all better now."

He checks my arm anyway, just to be sure, and his fingers gently brush over the scar. I wonder fleetingly if Cato would have been this worried, if he had still cared about me, if he ever did care about me. I force myself to push away those thoughts. I can't think about him anymore.

"What happened to her?" he asks softly.

For once, I'm glad to say that I wasn't the one who killed Glimmer. Peeta didn't react well to seeing me shoot down the boy from District 9 in the bloodbath, even though I was saving his life. Even now, there's a glint of fear in his eyes, as if he's afraid to learn of all my killings. Indeed, I am the most prolific murderer in the Games, but Peeta should know better. I wouldn't kill him.

"Cato accidentally killed her when he was throwing his spear at me," I say.

Peeta's brow furrows in confusion. I know it sounds strange, even to me. It's much more different saying what happened from actually seeing it.

"Wait, so he killed the person he sent to kill you? Why would he have Glimmer kill you in the first place?" Peeta asks.

Because Cato's a total and complete coward, I want to say. Because he doesn't value other people's lives, even those who are supposedly his allies. Because Cato was born and raised a killer, and, despite what he said to me, I shouldn't have expected to be treated any differently.

"He probably didn't want to face me himself," I say.

There, I'll make it sound like there might have been a shred of truth to his proclaimed love for me. I hope Cato loses sponsors from his lies and that, when he needs them the most, there won't be any silver parachutes raining down on him.

"That may be true, but it doesn't sound like Cato," Peeta disagrees. "From what you told me and from what I've seen, he's the confrontational type. Besides, why would he want you dead?"

I shrug. The same reason why he would want any of us dead, why we want everyone else to die – namely to win.

"My theory is that Clove told Cato about me stealing supplies for you and Rue," I say. "That angered him, and he felt like he couldn't trust me anymore."

Peeta considers my words. After reading Haymitch's note, it's the most logical explanation I have.

"If she had told him about that, he would have exploded," Peeta says thoughtfully. "I mean the guy isn't great at masking his emotions. If Clove was the only one who saw you taking supplies, don't you think she might have been the one who plotted your death?"

I don't like how Peeta acts like he knows everything, as if he was there, fighting Glimmer and watching Cato reach for his spear, because he wasn't. I was.

"Why do you insist on defending him?" I snap irritably. "Glimmer told me herself that Cato sent her to kill me."

Peeta immediately backtracks.

"I'm not trying to defend him," Peeta says. "I hate the guy more than you know. If that's what Glimmer said, then I guess he did try to kill you. Anyway, it doesn't matter anymore. You're here now."

Except it does matter. Cato's betrayal affected me more than I could have ever imagined – certainly more than I want it to. And here I was worried for him, concerned about the havoc I would wreak by leaving him for Peeta and Rue. Little did I know he was planning his own exit for me.

On the other hand, I am thrilled to be reunited with Peeta and Rue. They're a much happier bunch, completely diametric to the Careers. I actually like them. The atmosphere here is lighthearted, and there's no pressure to act tough. I'm not watching people die, and moreover, I don't have to kill anyone.

"Do you have any food?" I ask, changing the subject on purpose.

"What? Oh, um, we still have half of the loaf of bread you gave us," Peeta says. He walks over to the duffel bag, which apparently is where they keep their food, and ruffles through the stash. "My bag came with a ham sandwich, so there's still half of that. And we also have some protein bars. I think we're good for another few days at least."

I nod.

"We should save as much as we can," I add. "The bars should last a long time. I also brought some food. We should eat this fruit before it goes bad. Here, have an orange."

I toss him a dented orange and examine the rest of the fruit in my backpack. For the most part, they're intact. The most important thing is that they're edible.

"Wow, you got fruit?" Peeta says, tearing off the orange peel.

"Yeah, plus some beef jerky and packets of soup and porridge," I say. "We can make soup tonight, but we should save the jerky. I'll hunt some squirrels for the soup."

Peeta devours several orange wedges at once. The oranges look so ripe and juicy that I take one for myself.

"With all this food, is it really necessary to hunt?" Peeta jokes between bites.

That's exactly how I felt only hours ago. Funny how quickly things can change.

"You never know," I say. "What if the Careers find us and we're on the run? The jerky and bars would come in handy then. We had enough food to feed us for the rest of the Games in the Cornucopia, but that's not the case for me anymore. When we can, we'll hunt and gather."

Peeta nods in agreement.

"I'll come with you," he says.

I can tell Peeta doesn't want to leave my side. And while I like being around him, I don't want to hunt with him. I need the time to myself. I've been around others for too long.

"I usually hunt…" With Gale. "Alone."

"It's not safe," Peeta says, as I predicted he would.

I smile weakly. If only Peeta knew just how capable I am with this bow.

"You should wait for Rue," I insist. "When she gets back, you two can pick some berries, and not the poisonous kind."

Peeta's cheeks redden again.

"I'll be back in an hour," I promise.

I'd prefer to take longer, but I know Peeta would protest. An hour is pushing it as it is.

In the end, I'm glad Peeta acquiesces to letting me hunt alone. Not only am I quite successful – I return with a squirrel and two grooslings – but my mood drastically improves when I'm back in my element. As I hunt, I realize I don't need Cato, the Careers or the Cornucopia. All I need is the bow in my hand and the sheath of arrows on my back, and I am complete. I let myself get spoiled by the readily available food, the hot chocolate that Cato made me, the night-vision goggles and the pillows. I don't need any of that.

I forgot who I am: Katniss Everdeen of District 12.

I forgot that I am a hunter.


	10. Paranoid Android

A/N: Thank you to my reviewers who have their PM feature disabled and to my anonymous reviewers: **once and future**, **silentxangel**, **Anonymous**, **Julie**, **Eyrie**, **sky anonymous**, **Priscilla X. Silver**, **Anon**, **Cassie**!

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><p><em>I forget that I am a hunter.<em>

"Mmm, Katniss, this tastes really good!" Rue says cheerfully. She takes a bite out of her groosling wing and washes it down with her second helping of onion soup. It has a pleasant beef-flavored broth. For a small girl, she can certainly eat a lot. "It's the most I've ever eaten."

I pause, chewing my squirrel thoughtfully. I always thought District 11 had a plethora of food, what with them producing agriculture. In District 12, we have no shortage of coal, and the entire town is perpetually covered in soot, a black cloud hovering over the mines. Unfortunately for us, coal is inedible. But for District 11, I paint a picture in my mind of vast plains full of bountiful crops and people feasting on endless fresh fruits and vegetables.

"Isn't your district in charge of agriculture though?" Peeta asks before I finish swallowing my bite.

Rue nods her head.

"We are, but we can't take any of the food," Rue says. And then in a whisper: "You'll get killed if you do."

My eyes widen in shock. That's a sharp punishment for such a small infraction. It's far worse than anything I've ever experienced or witnessed, and I break a lot of laws.

Suddenly, District 12 doesn't seem so bad. Our Peacekeepers rarely punish us, and they don't hold everyone to the rules. We certainly never have any executions. Her district is much stricter than ours, but I bet it's not unique in that regard.

"I'm lucky my parents own a bakery," Peeta says. Indeed, he has never known hunger like Rue or I have, but I don't resent him for it. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be here. He turns to me. "Do you remember that day?"

I smile weakly. I had a feeling he was going to bring this up, especially since I was just thinking about it. Funny how we've never actually talked about it before.

But of course I remember. I also remember telling Cato – the one person to know this story besides the two of us. It doesn't feel right having Rue hear this after him.

"How could I forget?" I say. "You saved my family's life. My life."

Rue licks the groosling grease off her fingers and looks up at us, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. I'm sure our viewers are listening closely, too.

"What happened?" she asks.

Peeta's gaze shifts to the side. I can tell he's reminiscing, picturing that fateful day in his head. It's been on my mind since the Reaping.

We're all now in a nostalgic mood, and so he tells us the story.

"It was raining," Peeta says. "Katniss's father had died, and her family wasn't doing so well. I saw her sitting beneath a tree with this…this forlorn look on her face, like she had given up. That wasn't the Katniss I knew. I wanted to help her because it hurt me so badly to see her like that. So I burned a loaf of bread on purpose and then tossed it to her when my mom wasn't looking. I got beat up for it, but it was the best thing I ever did."

His eyes flicker at me hesitantly, as if he's afraid of rejection. Rue doesn't notice this, though she looks between us in awe. It must seem like true love to everyone watching.

"And I have always felt grateful to you," I say, giving him a reassuring smile.

Peeta doesn't know it, but in fact I feel eternally indebted to him. It's why I saved him in the Cornucopia, why I teamed up with the Careers and why I tried so hard to sneak him supplies. And yet my actions make me feel that much guiltier for telling Cato about the most private moment, the only moment, we shared in our lives before the Games.

I'm almost glad when our conversation is cut short by the anthem.

The three of us immediately put down our food and rush outside to see the day's victims. It's our only way of knowing how many of us are left.

I can't believe that only yesterday around this time I was out with the Careers as a part of their pack, on our way to hunt other tributes. It feels like a lifetime ago. We didn't bother watching the death recap because we were preoccupied and, besides, we knew who we had killed.

I of course anticipate the announcements of the girl from District 8 and Glimmer. I'm sure the Capitol was pleasantly entertained by the day's events. There was a lot of action, which means a lot of deaths to replay. Disturbing as that is, it's better that than the alternative, namely the game makers finding some sadistic way to bring us together. There's no escaping the constant threat of death here. I'm afraid if tomorrow doesn't bring any excitement that we'll have to brace ourselves for some other sinister surprise. At the same time, I hope that excitement does not involve the three of us.

Sure enough, pictures of the girl from District 8 and Glimmer are the first to flash in the sky. I suppose being with the Careers means being caught up with the news. After all, we made it.

That's not the end of the list, though.

I'm not entirely surprised to see the face of the girl from District 4 next. She was the only one missing when I was fighting Glimmer, not that I minded. If that means she had stayed at the Cornucopia to keep watch, there's a good chance she made another mistake, if not the same one. She would also have had to deal with Cato's foul mood.

I sigh. I tried my best to help her, but I suppose that in the end, Cato's temper triumphed over all.

"You knew her?" Peeta whispers.

I nod, not bothering to tell him that I was inadvertently responsible for her death, and that I was directly responsible for the first girl's death. So far, I've had a hand in all of the killings listed tonight. I've probably been featured quite prominently today. That's three for three, I think glumly.

Though Rue saw me slit the throat of the girl from District 8, she neither flinches nor says anything. I think she also senses Peeta's uneasiness. I wouldn't want to shatter his world, like I did back in the bloodbath, but I do feel that he needs a reality check.

I am surprised that Rue was able to stomach watching me kill that girl. Her bravery is inspiring and makes me hope that back at home Prim is putting on a brave face, too.

Finally there's one more tribute – the boy from District 10. I was not involved with his killing, so it must have happened quite recently. The sky's dark, which means the Careers are out hunting. He is their first, and hopefully last, kill of the night. Although I was upset yesterday about no longer being a part of the Career pack, I don't feel like I'm missing out now.

But that means there are only nine of us left.

Once the anthem is finished playing, I realize I'm freezing. It's cold outside, and my jacket is still damp. Jumping into the river wasn't the best idea. And though we are mostly shrouded in the cave, I don't want to risk lighting a fire. I shiver, thinking about how it didn't end so well for the last girl who tried to stay warm.

When we go back inside, we finish our dinner, which has also gotten cold, and face the inevitable situation of two sleeping bags and three people.

If only I had predicted Glimmer's ambush and packed my sleeping bag.

"You can uh share with me," Peeta says with a nervous cough.

My face turns red at the thought of snuggling next to Peeta. He seems just as embarrassed as me, but I can tell that he at least wants me to. I suppose my sleeping bag at the Cornucopia was right next to Cato's. What's the difference between a couple feet?

"She'd have more room in my bag," Rue teases him. She glances at me. "I'm just kidding. I mean, you would, but you can sleep with Peeta if you want."

If possible, I blush even harder. I don't think Rue understands the double meaning of what she said. Oh the Capitol must be going crazy right now.

It would undoubtedly be more comfortable to sleep in Rue's sleeping bag, since she's so much smaller than Peeta, but I have an image to keep up. The cameras already caught me and Cato kissing. Even though that was against my will, the Capitol doesn't know that. It's time I gave Peeta a chance in the Games, too. Plus, I am freezing.

"Sure, Peeta," I say.

Peeta unzips the sleeping bag and lays it flat on the floor. Then, reaching into his duffel bag, he pulls out a thick, wool blanket.

"You really have quite the haul there," I say, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing like your fancy fruit," Peeta shoots back.

His set-up looks a lot more comfortable than what I slept on yesterday. It could almost pass for a bed.

I take off my jacket and lay it out on the stone ground to dry. Then I crawl underneath the blanket and rest my head on Peeta's shoulder. The warmth emanating from his body stops my shivering.

"Thanks," I whisper.

Peeta doesn't say anything, but gently plays with my hair. He doesn't seem tired. I, on the other hand, am exhausted from fighting and running all day. My eyelids feel heavy, and soon I give up on keeping them open.

As I fall asleep, I can't be sure, but I think Peeta plants a kiss on my head.

* * *

><p><em>I'm alone in the forest again. My heart is beating so fast I can hear it. I know she's here somewhere watching me, hunting me. Glimmer is here, and she's going to kill me.<em>

_I keep wandering around in this forest that has no beginning or end. I have no sense of direction here, and the absolute silence suffocates me._

_I turn around and out of nowhere Glimmer is lunging for me. I scream at the top of my lungs, but she doesn't tackle me like she's supposed to. Instead, she falls to the ground, dead, with a spear through her stomach. Where did that come from?_

_I look up to see Cato standing in front of me. He's covered in blood, the blood of all his victims, his face streaked with red and his blonde hair matted down. Though it should, the sight does not frighten me._

"_I saved you," he rasps._

_He comes towards me with open arms. I don't back away, even though he's dripping red droplets everywhere. I let him pick me up bridal style, coating my clothes with blood, and he takes me to the cave. It's just the two of us._

_All my fear is gone, replaced with the feeling of safety. Cato's arms feel so warm and welcoming…_

* * *

><p>I wake up, and it takes a few moments for me to realize I'm not in Cato's arms, but Peeta's. I shake my head, ridding myself of this strange dream. Why did I dream of Cato? It must have been a mixture of the intensity of yesterday's events and my nonsensical subconscious mind. I remind myself that Cato didn't mean to save me and that he isn't here. There's only me, Peeta and Rue.<p>

"Did you sleep well?" Peeta whispers in my ear.

Too well.

Yesterday was awful; I was plagued with nightmares and couldn't sleep, which is what led to my conversation with Cato. Last night, however, was much different. I didn't think it was possible in the Games, but I actually had a full night's rest. I don't understand how it wasn't a nightmare, though, with Cato invading my dream and especially with the way he had looked covered in blood.

"You're finally awake," Rue says.

I turn onto my other side to see Rue hovering over me. She reminds me of when Prim was younger, and she used to wake me up extra early on the weekends so I could play with her. Prim would give me a similar look of anticipation.

"What's the plan?" she asks.

I sit up cross-legged and rub my eyes. I didn't realize I had been sleeping for so long.

Honestly, I have nothing planned. My ending up here in the first place was purely by coincidence. But I agree with Rue that now that I'm here, we should come up with a plan, not only for survival, but to put us ahead.

"We should just keep a low key," Peeta says, eyeing me worriedly. His concern is overbearing. All I have is a little scar. Other than that, I'm perfectly fine. Besides, what does he think I did with the Careers? Sit around, gorging on food in the Cornucopia all day? "Katniss can hunt, and we'll gather. Our cave is perfect for shelter."

Though hanging out here, safe in our cave with plenty to eat, does sound tempting, I can't forget for a second that I'm in the Games, and, most importantly, that I'm here to win. Relaxing as it is here, that isn't the point. I'm not satisfied with simply surviving, not when I've been with the Careers and have learned their strengths and weaknesses. We need to hit them hard while we can because I'll bet anything they're looking for us.

"We will do that," I say. And then reiterating my thoughts: "But I don't want to stay here all day. We need to come up with a plan to fight back."

I can tell Peeta doesn't want to. He's a pacifist, and my story of Glimmer nearly killing me gravely concerns him.

"How?" Peeta says, exasperated. "They're stronger than us."

They may be better fighters, but they've lost half their numbers in the span of a day. Glimmer and the girl from District 4 are dead. I'm gone. That means only Cato, Clove and Marvel are left.

"We have the same numbers," I counter. "Anyway, I'm not talking about fighting _them_. I have something else in mind."

I know where their weakness in lies.

Rue's eyes light up, and even Peeta peers at me warily.

"What is it?" Rue asks excitedly.

Thank goodness I never taught the Careers any of my hunting techniques. They may be fine without me when it comes to killing, but we'll see how good they are at surviving.

"They can't hunt or gather," I say, giving away their greatest weakness. "They rely solely on their food in the Cornucopia. I've seen their set up. I mean I helped set it up. The girl from District 4 used to guard it, but now she's gone. If I could get in there while they're out, I could easily light their supplies on fire. I could even use their own gasoline and matches."

Oh, how incredibly satisfying that would feel – watching the supplies that I helped fight for go up in flames, leaving them with nothing but ashes. It would be the perfect revenge. They deserve no less.

"It sounds risky," Peeta says with hesitation.

That much is true. It is particularly risky for me because Cato knows I will be planning something, but I don't say that. Even if Cato is anticipating my return, he can't wait on me forever. He obviously left last night to kill again. I can sneak to the edge of the woods, hiding safely behind a bush, and scan the Cornucopia. From there, I can take out whoever is on watch with one arrow through the neck. It would be a silent kill.

If they're keeping to the same sleeping schedule, no one should be awake this morning except for whoever's on guard. I don't think I would arrive until the early afternoon, but they could still be asleep. If not, I would have to wait until the evening.

"We could do it," Rue says. I'm glad she's on my side. I feel like she would do anything I asked and follow me anywhere. Rue is a loyal friend. "We could lure them into the forest while you destroy the supplies."

I hadn't thought of that! That's brilliant. Yes, a diversion would be perfect. I know the Careers will not be able to resist the chance to capture and kill other tributes, especially during the day when they'll be bored out of their minds.

"You two could set up several fires, far apart from one another, and then light them one by one every hour while I go to the Cornucopia," I say. "That would clear them out and give me enough time to destroy the supplies."

Peeta's expression remains doubtful, but I know he can't find any weaknesses in our plan. There's just as much risk in sitting in this cave doing nothing, especially if we're found. Besides, I'm used to action from working with the Careers. I want to make headway, to one up my former allies so they'll know that I'm still a formidable opponent.

"And we could signal each other through the Mockingjays!" Rue says. "We did it all the time at home."

I'm about to ask her what she means when Rue whistles a four-note tune. Even in the cave, we can hear the Mockingjays surrounding us chirp back the tune.

"Perfect," I say, impressed with Rue's idea.

She's a very useful ally.

"If you two insist," Peeta sighs. He's finally given up on changing our minds. "When are we doing this?"

I want to do it today. I am driven by the image in my mind of a pile of ashes and the reactions of Cato, Clove and Marvel when they've realized that they've been duped and that they have nothing left but the weapons in their hands.

However, we're going to need to do a lot of planning and preparation first.

"There's a lot to do beforehand," I say. "We finished all the groosling and squirrel yesterday, so I have to go hunt again. That way we'll all have food to take with us because we're going to be gone for the entire day and potentially the night. In the meantime, you two should split up and collect firewood. We're going to need a lot of it."

Peeta and Rue both nod in assent. We're in this together now, but I'm not nervous because we have a solid plan.

The three of us go our own ways, preparing for our spontaneous mission. Rue and Peeta cross the river, taking the other side so they won't get in the way of my hunting. The sound of them breaking branches and stepping on twigs would scare off animals in a mile radius.

In any case, I'm glad to have the morning to myself again. Hunting calms my nerves and clears my mind. It's the perfect way to ready myself for the sabotage I'll be doing today.

I step into the forest and, as I reach into my sheath for an arrow to string my bow, something jumps out from behind a tree and grabs me by my arms.

I'm slammed into the trunk behind me, the rough bark cutting into my back. I try to scream, but the wind is knocked out of me so that all I can do is gasp and sputter. I maintain my grasp on my bow; however, without an arrow and at such a close distance, it's useless.

I look up to see Cato's bright blue eyes boring into mine.

"Get off of me!" I manage to shout between gasps, hoping Peeta and Rue will hear me struggling.

Cato covers my mouth with his hand, his other arm pinning me across my chest. I'm completely immobilized.

"I don't want to have to hurt them," Cato warns me. "Behave."

I glare at him silently and he drops his hand, using it to slip my sheath of arrows off of me and onto his shoulder.

I feel so stupid for confiding in Cato and telling him my weakness, namely my compassion. Of course he's using Peeta and Rue against me to get me to face him one-on-one. I won't call for their help now, not when I know that it means putting their lives at risk. And Cato knows it.

"How did you find me?" I ask, barely containing my hatred.

I have to keep the conversation flowing to stay alive.

"You didn't exactly cover your tracks," Cato says dryly. And then upon seeing my horrified expression: "Don't worry. I came alone."

Even if I believed him, that doesn't mean no one was following him.

I knew that staying here was a mistake. I led Cato right to us.

"What do you want?" I snap.

I don't mince my words, even in the face of death. I let my anger bubble up so that it overwhelms my fear because I am indeed terrified. Yet I refuse to cower and beg for my life. But if he makes this painful, there's no telling if my voice and body will betray me.

"Come back with me," he says, holding his intense stare. "And I won't hurt them."

That was the original deal before he tried to kill me. It doesn't make sense why he would want to make the same deal again. Doesn't he want me dead? Perhaps he's trying to convince me that we're allies so that I'll come back. Then, once I let my guard down again, he'll send Clove or Marvel to kill me. But surely he must realize I won't make the same mistake twice.

"What, just so you can have Clove or Marvel kill me?" I hiss. That's right Cato. I know your dirty little secret and now so does everybody else. "I don't think so."

Cato looks genuinely confused, though there's still a hint of anger in his expression. I didn't know he was so good at acting.

"What are you talking about?" Cato asks.

I can't believe he's playing dumb. Fine, I'll say it then.

"You sent Glimmer to kill me," I say.

To my surprise, Cato lets out a bark of laughter.

"Is that what you think? So _that's_ why you ran away," Cato says thoughtfully. His irritation visibly diminishes. "I didn't have anything to do with Glimmer."

Then why would Glimmer tell me he did? She had no reason to lie, not when she was about to die. Cato is obviously denying it.

"That's not what she said," I say.

I don't buy Cato's lies, not for one minute.

"You know me better than that. If I wanted you dead I would have killed you myself," Cato says, sighing.

That's what Peeta said and what I originally thought. But if he's vying for sponsors, Cato won't kill me himself. Nor will he admit to playing a part in my death.

"I don't believe it," I say stubbornly.

Cato chuckles.

"And why would I kill Glimmer if I wanted her to kill you?" Cato says slowly, talking to me as if I'm a five year old.

Cato's words make sense, but I don't want to believe them. It's easier to hate him than to deal with the confusing flurry of emotions inside me. This is not the place to get close to or to trust anyone because in the end, you'll always suffer the betrayal. I've already let Cato's betrayal affect me, and I can't give him a second chance to do it again.

"Wasn't that spear for me?" I ask.

It was certainly close enough to my stomach to be.

Cato shakes his head.

"It was for her and if you didn't notice, I killed her for you," Cato says roughly, squeezing my arm tightly with his other hand. "I _saved_ you."

I nearly choke on my spit upon hearing those three words. That's the exact same thing he said to me in my dream.

"It could have easily been for me," I say weakly.

Even I don't believe the words coming out of my mouth.

"I chased you for almost an hour, and I never once threw my spear," Cato grits his teeth. He's shaking me, he's so angry. "Stop creating all these excuses for running away. It's like you don't _want_ to believe me. What are you so afraid of, Katniss? You're the most paranoid person I've ever met. Listen to yourself. You've created some conspiracy theory. Glimmer was a psycho working alone. Don't you remember what I told you? I don't want you dead."

I remember. I remember believing him, even right after Glimmer told me that he sent her to kill me, before I had worked it all out in my mind.

My eyes tear up against my will. Try as I might, I can't control my emotions. I can't stop myself from wanting to believe him again.

"You meant that?" I ask softly.

I hate sounding so vulnerable, but I have to know if he was telling the truth, if that conversation between us meant anything. I thought I knew him like he knows me. I have to know if it was real.

Cato nods solemnly.

"I meant it," he says.

And for a moment, I believe him. I believe that he was there for me all along, that twice he saved my life. For a moment, I see how he chased after me because he needed me. I see how I abandoned him. For a moment, I feel like I should have never run away.

And then I hear Rue scream.


	11. War

A/N: Thank you to my reviewers who have their PM feature disabled: **once and future**, and to my anonymous reviewers: **anon**, **Ugottaluvcato**, **Jag**, **silentxangel**, **saph**, **Anonymous**, **Who wants to hear a spoiler**, **Eyrie**, **Priscilla X. Silver**, **TSCxHG**, **xcitedfan**, **OneLiner**, **Mockingjay14**, **summersunset**, **alexis v**, **ke **and **nevsmile**!

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><p><em>And then I hear Rue scream.<em>

My heart freezes, and my eyes widen to the size of saucers.

"Rue!" I scream. Then, yelling at Cato: "Let me go!"

With renewed strength, I thrash at him wildly, my arms and legs flailing. To my surprise, Cato steps back and releases me. He seems to be in shock, just as thrown off as I am by Rue's scream, which tells me that he didn't plan this attack.

It doesn't matter. Maybe he isn't full of lies, but he is the one to blame for this.

"Give me my arrows," I hiss at Cato, grabbing at them as the words spill out of my mouth.

Again, he doesn't resist. Cato lets me slip the sheath off his shoulder and back onto mine. I'm about to turn around when he finally speaks up.

"Someone must have followed me," he says. I detect a note of desperation in his voice. He doesn't know what to do, but he knows he can't stop me, not unless he wants to completely shatter our relationship and undo all his work of convincing me that he cares. "I don't know what's going on, but you're not going to be able to save her in time. Come back with me."

I grit my teeth, angered by his quick dismissal of Rue, as if it's pointless for me to go. He doesn't understand friendship. He doesn't know what it's like to care about someone, and the idea of putting someone else's life before his own is preposterous to him. And yet somehow he has never applied his school of thought to me. At first, I thought he was pretending because he wanted sponsors. Somewhere along the way though, it became real.

So he should understand, but he doesn't. Even if he is right, and I don't get there in time, I have to be there for her. I have to avenge her.

"I'm going to Rue, and you're not stopping me," I say angrily. "She's more than an ally to me. She's my friend. And the only reason she is in trouble is because of _you_. This is all your fault! _You_ led them here."

For a brief moment, I can see the hurt flicker across his face. Then it's replaced with anger. How he can be mad in this moment is beyond me. He's like a child. When things don't go his way, even if it's his fault, he gets upset.

"If I let you go, you have to promise to come back," he says.

The nerve! Who does he think he is to be commanding me like that?

Well, I'll come back all right.

"I'll come to the Cornucopia today," I say, staring at him with steely eyes, my voice thick as lead. "But you have to leave. _Now_."

Cato nods. Turning around, he begins running back the way he came from. Not a second later, I'm on my way sprinting towards the river and cursing Cato for keeping me so long.

"_Katniss_!" Rue cries out for me.

I need her to know that I'm on my way. More importantly, I need to distract her attacker.

"Rue!" I shout back. "I'm coming!"

My heart is thumping a thousand beats a minute now as I run as fast as I can, faster than when I left the Careers. I dive into the river and, holding my bow in my right hand, wade towards Rue's voice.

Cato doesn't realize what he's done – not only to Rue, but to me as well. He doesn't know how livid I am. Just as he lacks courtesy and manners, he is entirely incapable of apologizing, much less seeing his faults. Selfish Cato, come to retrieve the girl on fire as if he would sweep me off my feet. He doesn't know how his actions have consequences.

"Katniss!" Rue screams again.

I scramble out of the water, climbing over the rocks with deftness that parallels Rue's.

Where on earth is Peeta? He should have been with her or at least in the vicinity. He most certainly was closer to Rue than I was. The absence of his voice alarms me. For all I know, he could already be dead.

Though my drenched clothes are heavy and should weigh me down, I push onwards, sprinting even faster than before as I follow Rue's voice.

I hear her cry out my name one more time before I stumble through the branches and find her on the ground. My heart sinks when I see the spear protruding from her body. I look up to see Peeta and Marvel wrestling on the ground. Just like in the bloodbath, I intervene, sending an arrow through Marvel's neck.

I immediately turn around and kneel at Rue's side.

"Is Clove here?" I ask frantically. She's the only other Career now besides Cato.

Rue shakes her head.

I look at her wound, the tears welling in my eyes. I want so badly to help her that my heart aches, but not even the fancy medicine from the Capitol could heal her, for the spear is so far lodged in her stomach that it would kill her just to remove it.

Rue's eyes reach mine, and I see that she knows it. She knows she is dying.

"You came," she whispers.

And though she is the one who should be frightened, the terror seizes me as I grasp her hand tightly. Though she is the one who should be crying, the burning tears stream down my face. Though she is the one who should feel betrayed, my heart breaks.

"I'm so sorry," I sob. "I should have never left you."

A soft smile tugs at the corner of Rue's lips. Her bravery and compassion never ceases to amaze me. She is the real star of the Games, not me.

"This isn't your fault," she says. "I wouldn't have made it this far if it wasn't for you."

Back in the cave, Peeta said that giving me the burned bread was the best thing he ever did in his life. Well giving Rue those supplies was the best thing I have ever done in mine. It may not have saved her in the end, but it bought me priceless time to get to know her, to become friends.

"You have to blow up the food," Rue says. "You have to finish what we started."

"I will," I promise. "We'll use the Mockingjays, like you said. And I'll win. For both of us."

The cannon goes off for Marvel, but I don't pay it any attention. The entire forest could be on fire, and I wouldn't care. My eyes are only for the fragile girl before me, the one who took me from the Careers and taught me how to smile and laugh again.

Rue asks me to stay. I of course abide. I wouldn't dream of being anywhere else, not even home, and that's what I tell her.

I gently slide her head onto my lap. My fingers begin braiding her hair the way my mother used to braid mine. I haven't sung since my father died, but I feel the sudden urge to sing to Rue. And though my throat is raw, my voice coarse from shouting and crying, I start singing a song that reminds me of Rue, a song of hope.

Her eyes close, and her breathing slows, but she manages to weakly squeeze my hand one more time. It's her way of telling me to continue.

I finish the song long after she's stopped breathing. I kiss her softly on her forehead, my tears raining down on her, and lay her back on the ground.

"That was beautiful," Peeta whispers from behind me. "I haven't heard you sing since your father passed away."

In my last moments with Rue, I completely forgot about Peeta. I turn around to face him, and I see his eyes are glistening, too.

"I tried to save her," he croaks. "I was too late, and I-"

I lean in and kiss him, cutting him off mid-sentence. I know it's the only way to get him to stop talking. Though Rue forgave me, I am consumed with guilt. I can't stand listening to Peeta blame himself, too.

It seems that ever since the Games began, I have only been capable of death and destruction. I've caused so much damage by coming back. I should have never left the Careers. Then Rue would be alive, and she and Peeta would be happy in their cave.

I pull back from the kiss.

"I should have never come back to you two," I say, the never-ending tears streaming down my face. "You and Rue would have been better off without me."

Peeta wraps his arms around me and pulls me back in, my head resting on his chest. My tears soak his jacket, but he doesn't seem to mind.

"I would have died from those berries on the first day if it weren't for you sending Rue to me," Peeta says. "And Rue needed those supplies."

"It didn't matter in the end," I sob. "She died because of me."

"She _lived_ because of you. You were there for her until the end," Peeta says. "I don't think she would have traded the time she spent with you for anything else. I know I wouldn't."

I believe him. Though I should feel otherwise, I don't. Does that make me selfish like Cato? I wanted to be with Peeta and Rue, and as a result, my actions led to drastic consequences.

The cannon goes off for Rue and interrupts my thoughts.

"We can't leave her like that," I say, turning back to Rue's body.

The hovercraft will come as soon as we clear out, but I'm not ready to leave, not yet.

Peeta nods solemnly.

"There were some wildflowers back where I was collecting wood," Peeta says, motioning the way.

I follow him, and the two of us collect blossoms of pink, orange and yellow. Our arms are overflowing with the wildflowers. We take them back to Rue and arrange them in her hair, around her body, and in her hands until the colors blend together to form a dying sunset.

We stand silently for a few minutes, watching her sleep.

"Come on," Peeta murmurs to me.

Before we walk away, Peeta and I give our three-fingered salute and hold it in Rue's direction. Finally I understand Gale's rants and ravings. Except he was only able to blow off steam when we hunted, while I actually get to send a message. We want everyone watching to know that we don't condone this, that it's wrong to kill a little twelve-year-old girl, that it's wrong for all of us to be here.

The nightmares I had the first night were of my family and Gale disapproving of me and my actions in the Games. I was only a killer then, not very different from the Careers. And while I don't think Gale would hold any of my killings against me – after all, he wants me to win – I know that this would make him proud.

Rue came along and taught me a very important lesson: to not let the Games change who I am. I will win for both of us, but as Katniss Everdeen of District 12, nothing more and nothing less.

We start heading back to the cave when I notice blood seeping from Peeta's left leg.

"You're hurt!" I say.

Why didn't Peeta say anything earlier?

Peeta looks down at his leg as if he's seeing it for the first time, too.

"Oh yeah," he says. "I forgot. The District 1 guy had a knife on him and he got me in the leg."

In his rush to save Rue, Peeta didn't even notice he was hurt. Cato, on the other hand, tried to dissuade me from going to help my friend. The two of them are like night and day. I am somewhere in-between, more selfish than Peeta but more compassionate than Cato. However, I don't know to which end I fall closer. I suppose that's the whole point of this love triangle, to find out who I match up better with. Everyone in the Capitol has surely made up their minds. Given that we're fighting in the Games, I don't think I'll have much say.

"Is it deep?" I ask worriedly.

I bend down to examine his wound. The cut isn't as long as what Glimmer gave me, but it's deeper. So long as we clean it soon, it shouldn't become infected. I'm glad I was able to save some of that ointment, but I'm not sure if we'll have anything left after this.

"Let's get to the river quickly so we can wash this," I say. "Did he cut you anywhere else?"

Peeta shakes his head.

Luckily the river is only minutes away. Once we thoroughly clean out the wound – Peeta only grunts in pain a couple of times – I help him back to the cave, where I retrieve the ointment from my backpack.

I dip my fingers into the ointment and gently apply it to Peeta's wound.

"Wow," Peeta says as he watches the medicine do its magic.

The bleeding immediately stops and the wound slowly begins to close.

"It's pretty good stuff," I say.

"You have some nice sponsors," Peeta replies.

All thanks to him. Of course, I don't say that out loud.

"We should pack our stuff," I say.

It's unlikely that anyone knows of our location except Cato, but once I destroy the supplies, Cato will come back to the woods looking for me. I know how tenacious he is; he would eventually find us. It's best if we move, so we pack everything. It's also eerie staying where Rue once slept. This place is full of memories of her.

"So we're proceeding with the plan?" Peeta asks.

He doesn't sound hesitant like when we first came up with the idea. In fact, Peeta sounds determined. We're both committed to fulfilling my promise to Rue. We'll make sure that she did not die in vain.

"We're proceeding," I nod.

After deliberating for a few minutes, I decide not to mention my run-in with Cato. It would needlessly worry Peeta, and there's enough on our minds.

But I do have another promise to fulfill for Cato, though it is one in the same as my promise to Rue. I am going back to the Cornucopia like he demanded. But he doesn't know what he's asked for. Only when he sees the plume of smoke and the ashes that were once the fruits of his success will he know. Only then might he understand the pain that he caused me today, the pain that will live with me for the rest of my life.

As I pack the food, I realize that I never did catch anything this morning.

"I didn't get to hunt," I say.

What I mean to say though is that I don't want to hunt again, not after what happened. I don't think I could find any comfort in hunting or anything else for that matter. My thoughts are all focused on one thing and one thing only: destroying the supplies. Only then will I have any peace of mind.

"We have enough food," Peeta says.

He, too, seems eager to carry out our mission.

Peeta and I split the energy bars and leftover fruit, though I give him considerably more. I also give him the pot and packets of soup and porridge. I take Rue's old sleeping bag. I can picture her cocooned in it. It reminds me of her comment about me sleeping with Peeta, and how hard I blushed. I miss her already.

"We're not going to be apart for _that_ long," Peeta says.

There's always a chance that I won't return, whether it's because I succeed and Cato snaps my neck in anger or because he catches me and doesn't let me go. And I suppose I haven't really chosen between Peeta and Cato yet, even though I am working with Peeta against Cato at the moment, which is more so for Rue than anything. Angry as I am at Cato, he didn't intentionally bring along Marvel. It's why I'm only sabotaging his supplies and not plotting to take his life. So who knows what will happen at the Cornucopia? But I don't say that.

"If it takes a while, we might not be able to meet by nightfall," I say instead, which is also true.

With all of our supplies in my backpack and his duffel bag, Peeta and I leave the now empty cave and go back to the forest. He and Rue already collected most of the wood, so Peeta and I spend the next few hours building the first two campfires.

We're working on the second campfire when Claudius Templesmith's voice booms from above us. I'm surprised to hear him because there has been a lot of bloodshed today, so there is no pressing need to bring us together. Or perhaps Peeta and I are in trouble for our rebellious act, namely decorating Rue's body with flowers. However, I'm not sure what they would do about that with us here in the arena. That in itself is already a punishment.

Claudius first congratulates us seven remaining tributes. When I hear the number seven, I'm startled to realize that there are almost one fourth of us left. Just last night there were nine of us.

"There has been a rule change," Claudius announces to my surprise. I've never heard of such a thing. "Under the new rule, both tributes from the same district will be declared winners if they are the last two alive."

Wait, what?

As if Claudius can read our minds, he speaks again.

"I repeat: both tributes from the same district will be declared winners if they are the last two alive," Claudius says. "Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

Finally his words sink in. There can be two winners this year if they're from the same district. That means both Peeta and I can live if we're the last ones left alive.

Suddenly, I'm not so sure if Cato will be expecting me anymore or if he even wants to be reunited with me. I'm sure Clove is reveling in this new rule change, for she now has a good chance of winning. The Capitol has pitted her and Cato against Peeta and me. What perfect timing, right after Rue's death. The Capitol has escalated our lovers' quarrel into a full blown war. There's still Foxface and Thresh, but the main showdown will be between Districts 2 and 12, which leaves Peeta and me at quite the disadvantage. I don't know if I can do this, if I can bring myself to fight Cato.

As I always thought, this love triangle had to come to an end. I just didn't think it would be so soon.

Cato, do you still not want me dead?


	12. Trickster

A/N: Thank you to my reviewers, to those who have their PM feature disabled: **Ledophole** and **once and future**, and to my anonymous reviewers: **cutie2boot4u**, **Eyrie**, **silentxangel**, **Priscilla X. Silver**, **nana **and **AlexxKhartabil**!

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><p><em>Cato, do you still not want me dead?<em>

More importantly, do I want him dead?

Cato saved my life twice, once in the bloodbath and then again from Glimmer. He opened up to me and poured out his true thoughts and feelings - something I didn't think possible for a ruthless killer like him. Of course, he proved to me that he _is_ more than a killer and showed me a side to him that is both human and relatable. I naturally empathized with him, despite our differences. In fact, I found more similarities between us throughout the Games than I ever thought existed. And though he can be incredibly selfish, Cato has his selfless moments, like when he comforted me in his own way by making me hot chocolate and chased after me in the woods. He eventually found me only to ask me to come back. Through all our experiences together, I know that he cares about me to a certain degree, and I him.

Yet we are both here to win. He has his honor, and I have my obligations. This would be a lot easier for us if we didn't care about one another, if we hadn't grown close. This love triangle, which began as nothing more than a farce, has derailed our original plans and laid waste to our common sense. When our lives are on the line, I'm not sure what we will do. It's a grim truth, but I suppose survival instincts would prevail.

Either way, it looks like I won't be staying at the Cornucopia after all.

"We can both win," Peeta says in awe.

I forget that for Peeta, this is the deal of a lifetime – no pun intended.

"We still have to beat Cato and Clove though," I warn him.

I don't want us to get our hopes up high because I'm dreading our showdown with District 2. The thought of Clove's knives and Cato's spear or sword, whichever he chooses to fight with, frightens me. They know my strengths as well, and I can only wonder if Cato will tell Clove my weaknesses. Though I think if Cato does decide to kill me, which is a likely scenario, he will do it himself and face me like a man. In that instance, I will defend myself with everything I have – again, survival instincts. I do have a chance of winning, but should I lose, well, at least I have the assurance that my death will be quick and merciful at Cato's hands, unlike what Clove undoubtedly has in store for me. I have seen her play with her victims, and the memory makes me cringe.

"Taking out their supplies will give us a better chance," Peeta counters. He's right. If they have to shift their focus to survival, we can take advantage of their situation. "Speaking of, you should head over to the Cornucopia now. I can take care of the last fire."

I nod. It's time, though after Claudius's announcement, I have lost a lot of my earlier drive. Now I really don't want to run into Cato, especially if Clove is with him.

Peeta and I agree to meet afterwards at the flower patch where we picked Rue's blossoms. It seems only appropriate, since we are doing this for her and, not to be completely self-righteous, for our benefit as well. Before I go, I teach him the four-note tune Rue showed us, though it pains me to whistle it without her here. We are to use it to signal to each other that we are okay.

"Want to choose a tune for if we're in trouble?" I ask.

I don't think Peeta has any musical talent, but I want him to feel involved, not that he isn't as our decoy.

"You know me. I couldn't come up with a tune to save my life," Peeta says. Then, with a short laugh: "Literally. And I'm just saying, but if we're in trouble, we might not have time to whistle. Plus, if we have two tunes, I know I'm going to get them mixed up."

I sigh. Peeta's right. I don't want him mistaking one tune for the other. That could really mess things up.

"Fine," I say. "If we're in trouble, I guess we'll make it obvious. Yell or something."

My heart pangs at the thought of Rue's scream, of how far away I was, of how I wasn't able to save her.

I can tell it's on Peeta's mind, too, because he gives me a strange look and pulls me in for a kiss.

"Be careful," he whispers.

I'm still getting used to this whole kissing business, but I'm glad Peeta is getting all the attention now. For the longest time, the love triangle was in Cato's favor. Now, it seems, the Capitol has chosen Peeta. I don't completely understand why, since the Capitol has always favored District 2, especially when compared to District 12. But perhaps Cato's blunders chafed our viewers, not to mention Peeta does come off as the more romantic, nice guy. It is strange comparing them to each other, as if I'm simply an observer giving my two cents.

"You, too," I say.

I hike for another hour or so; our second fire is closer to the Cornucopia than the cave. Without Peeta by my side, I start to feel depressed. That, coupled with my anxiety, really messes with my mind. What if Peeta is in trouble, and I'm unable to reach him in time? Rue was dexterous, Peeta not so much. And yet I failed Rue. I don't think I could stand to fail Peeta, too. And what if Cato and Clove are already on their way to hunt us? Maybe splitting up was a bad idea.

I shake my head, trying to force out the negativity and paranoia. I need to focus on the task at hand. In the silence of the forest, however, my thoughts wander against my will.

It seems like eons later when I finally come upon my hiding spot.

There's a large tree that stands at the edge of the forest right before the Cornucopia, from where you have a complete view of everything – the supplies, the sleeping area and the rest of the grounds. Overgrown bushes block the lower trunk and roots, while the top is full of foliage that can obscure anyone hidden in the branches. I first saw it when I was on watch, eating my breakfast. I thought to myself that it would be so easy for someone to hide there, without us having the slightest inkling. I probably would have investigated it too, if it weren't for Glimmer's rustling diverting my attention for the worse.

But because of that, I never told anyone about the tree, and so it's my own secret location.

I climb the back of the trunk swiftly and find a sturdy branch to sit on. I'm not as small as Rue, but I'm still light enough for this tree to hold me. It's there I wait patiently, observing the sight before me.

Of course, I see Cato and Clove, who are apparently in some sort of heated discussion. I can't hear them from where I am, as they seem to be whispering to one another. I'm wondering to myself why they would bother keeping their voices low when I spot someone else in the vicinity.

It's a skinny, pale boy, who I don't immediately recognize, but figure is the boy from District 3 by systematically going through the remaining tributes in my head.

Why is he here?

I suppose that once Cato killed the girl from District 4, the Careers would have needed someone else to watch over their loot. Perhaps they came across him while hunting down the boy from District 10, though in my opinion he would have served as a better guard, limp and all.

I also notice that the set-up has changed. The supplies have been stuffed into various containers, instead of being laid out, and rearranged into one pyramid, as opposed to our previous organized stashes. In addition, the loot is now much farther away from the Cornucopia, and is covered in one large net. I don't understand this new layout. A net and some crates and bins won't deter thieves. So why the change?

And then something sparks my memory, and I realize why Cato and Clove have teamed up with this boy.

District 3's main industry is technology. Most of District 3's citizens are adept at engineering, and their expertise is not limited to just the televisions and computers they build for the Capitol. Previous tributes from District 3, most notably victor Beetee, created clever traps for their victims. I would bet anything that the supplies are somehow booby-trapped.

I won't be able to simply walk in there and destroy them now. How clever of Cato and Clove. They must have realized once I left that they needed to increase their security, and the boy from District 3 was more than willing to assist if it meant earning their protection. Moreover, now with Marvel dead, Cato and Clove are low on allies and actually need this boy to fight with them. However, he doesn't particularly strong or agile.

I'm trying to decipher the puzzle in front of me, to figure out what exactly the trap is and how to disarm or avoid it, when Cato pulls away from Clove and turns sharply towards me.

The blood in my veins freezes, and I hold my breath. Does he see me?

He raises his hand, pointing his finger at me...and then above me. I let out a sigh of relief. Peeta has started the first fire is all, and Cato has spotted the smoke. I'm safe, shrouded in this giant tree.

Cato speaks loudly, and now I can clearly hear him.

"He's coming, Clove," he says irritably, gesturing to the boy from District 3. "We need him to fight with us because if you haven't noticed, Marvel is dead. Besides, he's finished securing the supplies. No one can steal from us without blowing themselves into little pieces."

Blowing themselves into little pieces? That means that these supplies are protected by some kind of trigger-activated bomb. Though he doesn't know it, Cato has just told me their secret. I squint, trying to locate the bomb or trigger.

"You ready to fight Lover Girl?" Clove sneers.

Is that what they were arguing about?

I'm surprised Clove would antagonize Cato like that, since she always tried to pacify him when I was part of the pack. But I suppose there's a level playing field between them, and it's in their best interest to work together.

I am curious to hear his reply, though I don't think I'll like what I hear.

"She's not stupid. She wouldn't light a fire like that," Cato retorts.

I'm not sure if he's purposely defending me or just dodging Clove's question. It's probably a mixture of both. After all, he knows me well enough to know that I would never light a fire if it meant the slightest chance of giving away my location. I slap myself mentally. I should have thought that through because now I'm afraid he'll think this is a trap and not go.

"It's probably that redhead or the District 11 guy," Cato continues.

Okay, good, so he doesn't think this is a trap.

Clove rolls her eyes.

"And if it isn't them?" Clove says. "Because that 'redhead' supposedly considers herself clever, not to mention we haven't seen or heard any sign of her since the Games began, and the boy from District 11 isn't in that direction."

She's certainly right about Foxface. Foxface would never risk lighting a fire. She's much too smart and careful for that. As for Thresh, I'll have to take her word for it because I haven't seen him yet. But I hope Cato doesn't listen to her. Though Clove doesn't seem to realize that this is indeed a decoy, which is slightly insulting because it means she thinks that I'm dumb enough to light a fire in broad daylight, she could easily ruin our plans.

"It doesn't matter. We're checking it out," Cato snaps.

That's the Cato I know. He's not one to pass up the opportunity for a fight, and he certainly won't let Clove's words scare him off. I know he'll be more careful, but even if this is a trap, Cato would go because he's overly confident - okay, arrogant - in his abilities.

"And if it _is_ her?" Clove presses.

My pulse quickens at Clove's question. I want to know as much as she does, probably even more so.

"I told you. Districts 5 and 11 go first," Cato grits his teeth.

He narrows his eyes, daring Clove to question his decision.

"So what are we going to do, walk away if it's her? You're delaying the inevitable, Cato," Clove scowls. "I didn't think that was your style."

Cato growls and grabs his sword, tossing a spear to the boy from District 3. Then, effectively ending his argument with Clove, he storms into the forest. Clove follows him with a smirk, and the boy from District 3 tags along worriedly.

Peeta, Rue and I really were a happy family compared to these three. But I side with Cato on this one; I cannot stand Clove and her smirks. Though she's understandably frustrated, she's also trying to manipulate Cato.

But Cato's words surprise me. Is he really saving Peeta and me for last? He didn't sound at all thrilled at the thought of facing me. In fact, he didn't say a word about fighting me, though I'm sure Clove is eager to cover for him. I suppose I have the same sentiments. I don't want to fight Cato. We're both coping with this rule change by doing exactly what Clove said - delaying the inevitable. And yet we always knew that at some point we would have to face the fact that there can only be one winner. Claudius just hastened and complicated that reality.

But I can't let the conversation between Cato and Clove distract me now.

Now that they have cleared out of the Cornucopia, I resume my close observation of the supplies. Even with three decoy fires, which in my opinion aren't fully necessary as they are bound to realize after the second fire that this is all a trick, time is of the essence.

I strain my eyes for several minutes, but I can't spot any trigger. The bomb could be in any of the containers. Its location, however, is meaningless to me. I need to find the trigger.

I'm about to climb down the tree to get closer to the supplies when I spot movement out of the corner of my eye.

I freeze, watching this newcomer arrive. It's Foxface!

She runs to the pyramid and stops right before it, apparently aware that it is booby-trapped. I wonder if she knows how to avoid setting off the bomb and can therefore show me where exactly it is.

As if answering my question, she begins performing a sort of dance, moving and jumping with a lightness and agility that reminds me so very much of Rue.

It dawns on me as I watch her maneuver through the stash that the bomb is in fact a landmine and that, judging by Foxface's dance, there are several of them. It doesn't take long for me to make the connection. They're the metal plates we stood on at the start of the Games.

The boy from District 3 is very resourceful.

Now that I know about the landmines, I realize that I must set them off remotely, not that it could have ever gone any other way. That means using one of my arrows. I bite the bottom of my lip nervously. With my original plan of lighting the supplies on fire, Cato would have immediately known that I was the perpetrator. Who else would rather destroy the loot than take it? With these landmines, however, I have the chance of potentially covering my tracks. That's a much more desirable situation, especially with the knowledge that Cato is _not _eager to kill me. I don't want to give him any reason to want to chase me down. But if Cato knows I destroyed the supplies, well, his ambiguous feelings might change, to say the least.

There is still a dilemma. If I blow up the supplies remotely, Cato will know it's me. Either he will find my arrow in the rubble or listen for a cannon that will never come, thereby deducing that I am the perpetrator, since a remote detonation could only occur a number of ways.

But if he were to find a body, all suspicion would vanish. Cato would pin everything on her.

I hesitate, unsure if I can bring myself to shoot the girl in front of me. Foxface is no ally of mine, but I don't exactly see her as an enemy.

Except she's taking supplies which aren't hers to steal. She didn't fight for any of that. _I _did. No, she is a sneaky tribute that isn't entitled to the loot. She reminds me of Clove, though without her ruthlessness. Foxface has to die, regardless if it's now or later. But right now her death could serve a purpose.

If I was able to shoot four tributes in the bloodbath, I can shoot her now. Her body could easily set off the landmines, too, killing two birds with one stone.

So I reach into my sheath to retrieve an arrow.

Foxface's head snaps up at the sound of what, me pulling out an arrow? That's impossible. She couldn't hear me from this distance. No, something else must have disturbed her, based on the direction she's looking at, which is opposite of me. Thinking back to what Clove said, I wonder fleetingly if it's Thresh. But it doesn't matter what she heard because she drops what's in her hand, putting it back in the crate, and turns around, ready to leave.

It's now or never.

I take in a deep breath and release an arrow. Unfortunately, she jumps at the same time, so it goes right through her upper shoulder instead of her neck. I curse out loud, annoyed that her sudden movement made me miss. I wanted this to be quick and easy, without her ever knowing who killed her, but now she cries out in pain and glares in my direction. That's awkward.

I wince, but ready another arrow. I can't do this halfway. Either I kill her or leave her alone. Except the latter isn't really an option anymore.

I'm impressed by Foxface's determination as she begins her dance again, trying to flee, though she wobbles from the pain in her arm.

I send another arrow her way, but I don't need to. Before it has a chance to hit her, she falls, and then I'm sent flying backwards into the air.


	13. In Limbo

A/N: Thank you to all my reviewers, to those who have their PM feature disabled: **once and future**, and to my anonymous reviewers: **Anonymous**, **Eyrie**, **saph**, **anon**, **Me**, **Priscilla X. Silver**, **silentxangel**, **Jag **and **anilie**!

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><p><em>Before it has a chance to hit her, she falls, and then I'm sent flying backwards into the air.<em>

The branch I'm sitting on breaks from the tree and flies with me. I crash onto the ground, invariably losing my grip on my bow and arrows, and land on my back and left arm. I can't hear anything, not the sound of explosions or the cannon signaling Foxface's death. There is only a deafening ringing in my ears that silences the world around me, and I am frightened by my lack of hearing.

I think briefly how stupid it was for me to detonate the bombs while sitting in a tree, though I couldn't have gotten a shot at Foxface otherwise. I could have died falling from this height. Indeed, my back hurts terribly, and I'm afraid I've paralyzed myself.

I let out a sigh of relief when I'm able to move my legs, sore as they are. I've probably bruised my tailbone, too, but at least my back is all right. My head is also throbbing; I may have a minor concussion. Thankfully my head didn't feel all the impact, as my left arm broke most of my fall. Speaking of, though my right arm feels fine, my left…

It's definitely broken.

My heart sinks. To me, that is almost as bad as being paralyzed, for my bow and arrow are my only weapons. Without them, how can I defend myself? I can't even hunt. I know I should be grateful that I can walk and run and that I still have my right arm, but I'm devastated. I'm in the final six, which means I have to be able to fight. I'm useless now.

But fortunately the tall bush and tree shield me from much of the debris spewing out of the Cornucopia, and, besides the eternal shaking in the ground, I'm mostly unaffected by the subsequent explosions. The boy from District 3 must have set up the landmines as a chain reaction because the bombs go off continuously. Using my right arm, I crawl closer to the bush to keep myself hidden while dragging my bow and sheath of arrows with me; however it's not that easy as the ground keeps moving like there's an earthquake, which I suppose is technically true, though I induced it.

Finally, I'm completely shrouded. But if anyone were to happen upon me, I'd be a sitting duck like the girl who lit the fire the first night. Except hopefully I have the strength to not scream and beg, if it's Clove who finds me. Because if Cato realizes I'm the one who did this, I'm afraid he won't have much mercy left for me. If everything goes according to plan, however, which granted it rarely does, Cato will believe that Foxface did this, and he'll focus his attentions on Thresh. After all, he did say that Districts 5 and 11 were going first. And when he, Clove and District 3 clear out, I can escape back to Peeta.

The ground stops shaking a minute later. I want more than anything to get out of here before they get back, but I'm suffering from vertigo, which, compounded with my migraine, lack of hearing and broken arm, means I won't make it five hundred feet without collapsing. I'll have to wait this one out. At least in the meantime I can make a splint out of the branches near me and with the rope that I gave Rue the first night.

It takes me a long time to set my arm correctly. The pounding in my head and the ringing in my ears distract me. In addition, a couple of stray explosions knock me on my side, forcing me to start over. At least it's my left arm that is broken and not my right; otherwise it would be utterly impossible for me to make a splint.

But the view of the ruins, the smoke and the blackened ground keeps me going. If I die here, at least I honored Rue's memory.

I've just finished tying the rope when I see Cato thundering his way onto the scene. He's furious – no, he's completely lost his marbles. I've only seen him like this one time – when he chased me, though I wasn't looking back, but rather focused on running. I could tell he was close to it several times, like when he caught the District 4 girl sleeping on the job. Yet he always held himself back and exercised some control.

Not now though.

Cato lets out a yell of fury and swings his sword back and forth, slicing open boxes and burlap bags that contain nothing worth salvaging. He's a dangerous force, ready to destroy everything in his path with his anger. And he's picked his scapegoat. As the boy from District 3 throws rocks at the ruins to make sure that all the mines have been activated, Cato grabs him and savagely throws him to the ground like a rag doll.

Cato gives the boy, who appears to be pleading for his life, one brutal kick. Cato is about to kill him with a second blow, when Clove runs up to Cato, not unlike what I did with the girl from District 4, and tries to pull him back. She gestures to the sky. Though I can't hear her, I'm sure she's telling him that whoever set off the landmines definitely died. Maybe Cato attacked the boy because he thought the landmines malfunctioned. Well, Clove is right, as usual, but for once I'm glad she has some sense.

Cato has the same look on his face as when I convinced him to let the girl from District 4 live, though he grudgingly assents.

Just as I had hoped, they are going to pin this on Foxface when they find out she's dead. It looks like my plan is working.

The three resume combing through the ruins, trying to find any useful supplies, but, much to my satisfaction, they're unable to salvage anything. Cato, however, seems to be looking for something in particular. He doesn't bother looking through the containers. Instead, he walks around the entire perimeter of the blast, searching on the ground for what? The body perhaps? But surely he must realize that he would only find pieces.

Cato looks deeply worried. Every once in a while he comes across a stray body part. I'm not sure how that doesn't repulse him. I hold my breath each time he finds another one, praying he doesn't locate the arrow. I tell myself that even if he does, it doesn't necessarily incriminate me. I could have shot her earlier, and in her desperation, she went to the Cornucopia to steal medical supplies. Or perhaps I saw her trying to steal the supplies, and I stopped her, not knowing about the landmines. Of course, I don't exactly have an opportunity to spin a story to Cato. He would have to assume the best of me. So I can only hope that either the arrow was blown to smithereens or that he doesn't find her left shoulder.

Cato continues to roam the grounds slowly, examining each body part closely. I'm confused by his actions. There's no way he can identify the perpetrator, and besides, he's going to find out this evening anyway. Is he really that impatient?

But the more I watch Cato, the more I realize he's trying to discern if it's a male or female by the size of the body parts, which he compares to his own. Once he finds a hand, it's apparent though that the deceased is a girl. Cato runs his hand through his hair, his brow furrowed. I can see the sweat beading on his forehead. His anger has completely dissipated and is replaced with worry, but I can't imagine why.

And then I wonder if his concern is for me. Maybe he thinks I came back like I promised I would, only to accidentally set off one of the landmines. There is a fifty percent chance that the body is mine. Foxface and I were the only girls who could have done this.

I feel guilty that I'm causing him to worry about me, especially when I intentionally sabotaged the supplies. He's supposed to be angry, not concerned. If he finds out that I didn't die and that I meant to do this, I'm sure that will change.

As the sky begins to darken, the ringing in my ears gradually lessens, and I slowly regain my hearing. I'm lucky that my eardrums aren't injured. It's impossible to hunt without hearing, but then again, it's also impossible to hunt with a broken arm.

But though my left arm hurts terribly, I feel well enough to leave. Of course, now I have to wait for the Careers to scatter. If all goes well, once they see Foxface in the sky, they will go after Thresh. That is Cato's plan after all. And if Thresh is in the opposite direction of Peeta, which is what Clove said, I won't have any problems getting back to Peeta.

After what feels like hours, I can just barely make out the anthem, and the day's victims are flashed above us.

My eyes immediately tear up at the sight of Rue's face. I miss her so much right now. She only died this morning, and yet it feels like days have passed. I suppose a lot has happened between now and then, what with Claudius's announcement and me blowing up the supplies. I wonder if the announcement was the Gamemakers' way of distracting me from Rue's death. They probably thought that I wouldn't be as "fun" if I was crying all the time. Well look at me now, I think bitterly. I've provided quite the entertainment today.

But I _am_ proud to have fulfilled my promise to Rue. She would have been excited and happy about our plan succeeding. I give a three-fingered salute from where I am, the tears rolling silently down my face. I'm careful not to extend my arm above the bushes.

Marvel is announced next, and I feel a flash of anger at seeing his trademark smirk. He was definitely my least favorite tribute along with Glimmer and Clove. At least he isn't smiling anymore. I do feel better knowing that I'm the one who wiped that smirk off his face. I avenged Rue while she was still alive.

Finally the last victim of the day is displayed in the sky – Foxface. I sit up straight, watching closely for Cato's reaction.

His face seems to brighten noticeably, his eyebrows shooting up. I hope that means he's glad that I'm not dead and has no inkling of my involvement. He tries to compose himself when Clove looks over at him, but it's too late.

With some of my hearing back, and from reading their lips, I'm able to discern the gist of their conversation.

"You shouldn't be so happy that you get to see Lover Girl again.," Clove sneers. "It means we're the ones who get to kill her, but judging by that look on your face, I'm going to be the one who does it. That's fine. I actually look forward to it, unlike you. Just don't think there's going to be any romantic reunion between you two."

Cato scowls in return.

"There's still District 11," he says coldly.

"And then after that?" Clove says. "Stop playing around, Cato. District 5 is already out, and by morning, so will District 11."

"Then let's get on it," Cato snaps, not wanting to address Clove's question.

Clove seems to know not to push the matter any further. There's no point really, since it's apparent that Cato won't budge, and they'll need to get along if they're going after Thresh.

"At least you didn't kill him," Clove nods to the boy from District 3. "Because we're going to need him."

I add mentally: _for now_. I'm not even sure how useful the boy from District 3 will be. He's visibly shaking, and I don't blame him. Cato and Clove are the real fighters, not him. If he's lucky, Thresh will focus his attention on Cato and Clove, who will undoubtedly keep Thresh busy, and he'll come out unscathed. Of course, there's always the chance that Cato kills him afterwards because he won't be useful anymore, and since there will only be five of us left. So if he's smart, he'll run away when the fight begins. But I wouldn't be surprised if Clove sends some of her knives his way.

With that, the three put on their night vision goggles and head towards the forest where Foxface looked warily at earlier. The sound she heard must have been Thresh.

I let out a sigh of relief the moment they're gone. I stand up and stretch my aching limbs, groaning. I don't know how long I've been lying down, but I'm eager to move around again. My head still hurts a little, and there's a lingering ringing in my ears. However, I feel much better than before, and my spirits have brightened since my plan worked. Now I just have to get back to Peeta.

After hiding behind this bush for hours, I'm starving. I now regret giving Peeta so much more food because I can't hunt anymore. I finish the rest of the fruit, and though I should save what little I have left, I eat one of the energy bars. I'll need it so I can move quickly.

I don't know if Peeta was able to make it back to the cave already. If not, he'll be camping elsewhere because there's not much traveling he can do in the dark. At least he doesn't have to worry about the Careers or Thresh, who are far from us.

Thankfully, I still have my pair of night vision goggles. With them, I'm able to see as clearly as I would during the day. However, it's a lot colder now. I shiver in my thin jacket until I remember that I have Peeta's wool blanket. I pull it out of my backpack and wrap it around my shoulders.

It takes me a few hours to get back to the cave, and by then I'm exhausted. Going out the first night with the Careers wasn't an issue because I was at my peak, having gorged myself in the Capitol during training. I haven't eaten nearly as many calories since then though, and especially not today. Moreover, my body is still quite sore from the explosion. Perhaps it wasn't so wise to hike back to the cave tonight. When I arrive and see that it's empty, confirming that Peeta isn't back yet, I really feel like I should have slept behind those bushes.

I take out the sleeping bag and clumsily unzip it with my right arm. My left arm is still stiff, though the splint helps. I yearn for sleep and, despite my hunger, am too tired to even eat. So I climb into the sleeping bag and pull the wool blanket on top. Not long after, I fall asleep.

* * *

><p><em>I'm back in the Cornucopia, except this time instead of the pyramid of supplies, there are two people kneeling on the ground. They're tied up with sacks over their heads so that I can't tell who they are. Though they try to speak, their voices are heavily muffled by some kind of cloth.<em>

_I walk gingerly towards them. I'm not sure if I want to know their identities._

_Before I can remove the sacks, President Snow emerges from the edge of the forest. I smell him before I see him. He reeks of roses, as always; the very scent makes me want to vomit._

"_What are you doing here?" I demand._

_I want to kill him, but I note with dismay that I don't have my bow and arrows with me. I don't even have a knife on me. But I could rip his throat out with my teeth, like Enobaria…_

"_You have to choose, Katniss," he says, gesturing at the bodies before me._

_His comment derails my train of thought. What does he mean?_

"_Choose what?" I ask._

_He doesn't say anything, but stares at me pointedly._

_And then I realize that he wants me to choose between whoever is in front of me. Though I don't want to listen to Snow, my curiosity pushes me forward to unveil them. My hands are shaking as I remove the first sack. Bright blue eyes stare back at me and they seem to pierce my very soul. I gasp and take a step back. It's Cato._

_I immediately know who the second person must be. Nevertheless, I take off his sack, and my suspicions are confirmed. Peeta looks up at me with his soft, hazel eyes._

"_Who will it be?" Snow says as he walks towards me._

_I look between the two of them – Cato the ever demanding, and Peeta with his gentle heart._

_But how to choose?_

_Peeta and I never fight, though we sometimes disagree. He understands the compassion in me and struck up an unlikely friendship with Rue. Together, the three of us were a family. I was happy with them. But he doesn't share the same strong survival instinct that I have. When I'm fighting, when I kill because I have to, Peeta pulls back, and it's as if he's afraid of me. He _is_ afraid of me. It's a part of me he doesn't get. Just like I don't understand his selflessness._

_Cato, on the other hand, brings out a side of me I didn't even know existed. Before the Games, I didn't think I had it in me to kill. But Cato proved otherwise when he saved me in the bloodbath and tossed me my weapons. He knew I could do it, and I proved it by surpassing everyone. I've killed a third of the tributes – six out of the eighteen. And when I hated myself for being a killer, when I was drowning in guilt, Cato pulled me out and saved me again. He may have anger issues, and we may fight at times, but he's always been there for me._

_So who will it be?_

_It doesn't matter. None of it does. I don't have a say in this. I never did. And I knew that coming in._

"_You already chose for me," I say defiantly, glaring at Snow. "You picked Peeta."_

_Snow shakes his head. He pulls out a switchblade and throws it to me._

_I catch it deftly, but when I look up, Snow's gone. Haymitch stands in his place, and he looks at me sternly._

"_You have to _choose_, Katniss," Haymitch says. "You both do, or else you will die."_

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><p>When I wake up, it takes me a few moments to gather my surroundings. My dream was strange, but not as strange as some of my previous ones. It must be my mind's way of dealing with the upcoming showdown. Because despite what Haymitch said, which really didn't make any sense at all, the Capitol has chosen for me.<p>

I sit up and glance around the cave. It looks like Peeta still isn't back. Oh well, like me, he probably just woke up. I suppose I could wait around for him, but I'd rather meet him halfway.

I eat another energy bar, but force myself to save the rest despite my rumbling stomach. I really wish my arm was healed so I could go hunt because I'm running low on food, and I'm not sure how much Peeta has saved. He doesn't know I've broken my arm and may not be rationing his supplies like I am.

I stand up and stretch my ligaments once more. I'm not as sore as when I initially left the Cornucopia, and the pain in my arm has dulled. I note with relief that my hearing has almost completely returned, and my head feels fine.

I step outside the cave when I spot a silver parachute floating towards me.

Another gift so soon? I suppose there are only six of us left – five, if the Careers killed Thresh while I was sleeping. But what would Haymitch send me? There surely isn't anything that can heal my broken arm, not even in the Capitol. And my makeshift stint is completely sufficient.

When I open up the parachute, I'm surprised to see half a loaf of bread. I take it out and find that it's still quite warm, the steam rising into the air. This isn't from the Capitol though. The dark brown color of the bread looks just like what we would bake at home from the ration grain, except we don't sprinkle ours with seeds. I think back to what Peeta said about the other districts' breads and realize that this is from District 11.

It's for Rue. Her district must have sent this to me as thanks for honoring her death and avenging her. That's why I have only half a loaf. The other half will have gone to Peeta.

This bread means a lot to me, and it came at the perfect time because I really do need it. I'm no longer a spoiled member of the Career pack, though it's not like they have a plethora of food anymore. I'm injured and weak with hunger. And this bread isn't only sustenance; it's encouragement and motivation, too. It reminds me what I broke my arm for, and it's a symbol of my success.

"Thank you," I whisper to District 11. "For this, and for Rue."

With that, I feast on the warm bread.


	14. High and Dry

A/N: Thank you to all my reviewers and to my anonymous reviewers: **Juliette**, **Trapped in Narnia**, **c**,** Lena**, **Cassie**, **Nucking futs**, **anna**, **Anonymous**, **Catoniss3**, **frankeelowe**, **Priscilla X. Silver**, **Maggie**, **AvisSeeker11951**, **Bee**, **Kate**, **Hawkheart2**, **bubz**, **saph**, , **tiara**, **hgcf**, **petrichor**, **1000 D**, and **Jag**!

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><p><em>With that, I feast on the warm bread.<em>

Finally, my stomach is full. I grab my backpack, bow and arrows, even though I'll be coming back here once I find Peeta, and make my way to the patch of wildflowers that we picked for Rue. I forgot that was the meeting spot we had decided on before I left for the Cornucopia. I was so exhausted last night, I came straight to the cave to sleep. There's a good chance that Peeta will be waiting for me there.

On the way though, the paranoia starts to set in. I wonder if Cato, Clove and the boy from District 3 successfully killed Thresh. I want to know who is still alive and what they're doing right now. The worst-case scenario is that the Careers are on their way to kill Peeta and me. The best-case scenario is what? I suppose I'd feel really relieved if Clove, Thresh and the boy from District 3 all died. But Cato…

I hope that he's okay. It's ridiculous, I know. It's absolutely stupid. If he's alive, that means I have to face him. And yet I can't think of him as gone. I can't imagine being here in the Games without him.

I have to rid myself of these treacherous thoughts. The rule change only allows Peeta and me to win. I should be grateful for that alone. Instead, I'm lamenting that Cato can't win, too.

When I spot Peeta lying peacefully in the bed of wildflowers, I let out a sigh of relief. At the same time, my cheeks flush with embarrassment, as if he can hear my traitorous thoughts. This is who the Capitol has chosen for me, and I shouldn't question it.

As I walk closer to him, I can see that he's still fast asleep. I roll my eyes. It shouldn't be this easy for me to sneak up on him. I'm going to have to teach him how to be a light sleeper. If Clove were in my place, he would never wake up again.

I shake his shoulder gently.

"Peeta," I whisper.

Peeta wakes up with a start, reaching for his knife. At least his reflexes are good, though if they were really excellent, I'd be dead.

"It's me," I say, putting a hand on his wrist.

He blinks, looking up at me groggily. When I see the hazel in his eyes, it reminds me so much of my dream, and I think of blue. I think of Cato.

"Katniss!" Peeta says.

Holding my arms, Peeta pulls me down so that I'm sitting in his lap. Before I know it, his lips are eagerly on mine, as if he would never have the chance to kiss me again. I'm unprepared as always, but try to reciprocate as best as I can. I don't think I'll ever get used to kissing Peeta.

After a minute and a half of suffocation, Peeta pulls back. Good grief, how long can he go without oxygen?

"You're okay," he says, breathing heavily.

He rests his forehead on mine, just like Cato did on the roof before the Games.

But it feels wrong. All of this feels wrong. And though I haven't the faintest clue why, I'm sick to my stomach. It's as if every second I spend with Peeta, I'm condemning Cato to death. And yet isn't Cato doing the very same thing by fighting alongside Clove? I shouldn't feel guilty about this. It's about winning. It always has been. And I can't forget that.

"You made it back, too," I say. "Good job with the fires."

Peeta smiles.

"You're the one who destroyed the supplies," he teases me.

"Yeah, and I paid for it," I say, extending my left arm with a grimace.

Peeta's eyes widen in concern. Oh great, I forgot about his tendency to overreact. Of course, I can't exactly hide this injury, and unlike last time, it actually is a problem.

"Your arm!" Peeta exclaims. "What happened?"

He cradles my left arm, running his fingers across it gently as if to assess the damage. I appreciate the gesture, but what would a baker's son know about broken bones?

"In case you didn't hear, there was an explosion," I say dryly. "I was blasted out of a tree."

I don't think Peeta was anticipating my answer because he goes from staring at me sternly to trying to stifle his laughter, the overall result being him looking quite confused.

"You decided to set off a bomb while sitting in a tree?" Peeta raises an eyebrow.

I sigh. It wasn't one of my best moments. But I don't really want to tell him the truth, to say that it was the only opportunity I had to kill Foxface because historically Peeta hasn't reacted well to my killings. In fact, he probably doesn't even realize that I'm responsible for Foxface's death.

So I decide to change the subject.

"It doesn't matter," I say. "Did you hear anything last night? I fell asleep."

I'm eager to know if anything happened and if anyone died.

Peeta shrugs in response.

"I fell asleep, too," he says sheepishly. "But I definitely heard at least one cannon."

At least one. Then it could be anyone. But if there was _only_ the one cannon, then it must have been Thresh. I just can't see Cato or Clove walking away from the fight, even if one of them died. They wouldn't have quit until one side had won. Or maybe they never found Thresh, and it was the boy from District 3 who died. I'm pretty certain they would have kept him alive to fight Thresh, though. Of course, if Thresh is dead, then why is the District 3 boy still alive? Maybe he ran away.

I really need to stop being so paranoid. All of this speculation is making my head hurt.

"I guess we'll find out tonight who that was," I grumble.

I'm not being fair to Peeta because I, too, fell asleep, but I can't help feeling irritated. I don't like being in the dark, without a sense of what my remaining competition is and where they might be. I can't plan for so many different scenarios. Our lack of knowledge puts us at a disadvantage; the Careers know exactly how many of us are left, and Cato could lead Clove and the boy from District 3 pretty close to us if he goes back to the river. Sadly, it means we probably can't return to the cave if they'll be scouring the area by nightfall.

"So what's the plan?" Peeta asks.

Now that's the real question. My original plan was for us to head to the Cornucopia to fight Cato and Clove and to settle this for once and for all. In my ideal scenario, it would only be the four of us – no Thresh and no District 3. All thoughts of each other would be pushed aside in one last, epic showdown. There would be no more avoiding the inevitable.

But now that's exactly what we have to do.

"I can't fight with a broken arm," I say dejectedly. "We're going to have to wait this one out."

I don't bother mentioning that we can't even hide in the cave because that area has been compromised. I never did tell Peeta about Cato finding me in the woods.

Peeta shakes his head.

"It would take months for your arm to heal," he says. I already know that, of course, but I don't have any better ideas. "Haymitch will send you something."

Like what, a magical new arm? Peeta knows there's nothing they can send me. I'm sure they could perform surgery to fix my arm, but I doubt that a team of surgeons and assistants will be parachuting into the arena anytime soon. If I win, they'll fix my arm, just like they fix all the injuries of victors. Except I have no chance of winning _with_ a broken arm. Oh, how circular.

"He might not send anything," I argue back. "And out here in the open, I'm a liability. I can't fight or hunt. We need to hide."

I hate being rooted, more than Peeta will ever know, but we don't have any other choice. As much as I enjoy making headway, right now I'd just like to survive another day.

"They'll find us," Peeta says bitterly. "For all we know, they're already looking for us. We couldn't hide even if we tried. The gamemakers would find some way of bringing us together."

He's right. Either they'd light half the forest on fire or send rabid dogs to attack us. The possibilities are endless because there's no limit to their sadistic imagination. And yet Peeta's words annoy me nevertheless. He's only rejecting my ideas without suggesting any actual solutions. I'm supposed to be the pessimistic one.

"Then what would you have us do?" I snap.

"I don't know," Peeta admits. "We could poison them with Nightlock."

That has to be the most idiotic idea I've ever heard. I don't think I could top that even if I tried.

I didn't have a spare moment to think about it before, but with my dream and now all this downtime, I can't help but wish that Cato was alongside me instead of Peeta. Does that make me a terrible person? Probably. But so does killing six people.

"Oh okay, let's cook up some Nightlock and invite them over for dinner," I say sarcastically. "There's a better chance of them accidentally eating it themselves."

Peeta looks stung by my abrasiveness, and I immediately regret my choice of words. I forget I'm not bantering with Cato.

"I'm just trying to help," Peeta says quietly.

I know he is. As if I didn't already feel guilty. I shouldn't be taking my frustration out on him. I don't have my usual outlet – hunting.

"I'm sorry," I say quickly, and I am. "I know you are. I'm just not in a great mood because I've got a broken arm, and we don't know what's going on."

Peeta wraps his arms around me and leans in for another kiss.

"You don't have to be sorry for anything," he says softly, tucking several strands of hair behind my ear. "I'm just glad you're here."

And then I hear a snicker from behind us.

"That's so sweet, I think I threw up a little in my mouth," Clove interrupts us.

I quickly react, reaching into my sheath for an arrow and grabbing my bow. But my left arm is too weak, and I can't pull the bowstring back all the way.

I cry out in desperation. It's too late. I hear the familiar whizzing in my left ear, and when I look up, I can see the handle of the knife protruding out of Peeta's neck. Clove is as good of a shot with her knives as I am with my arrows.

"No!" I scream. I drop my weapons and hold Peeta as he collapses onto the ground. "Peeta!"

Unlike Rue, there isn't enough life force in Peeta to respond back to me. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, his hazel eyes widened in surprise. The blood gushes out of his neck, and his face turns deathly pale.

"Stay with me," I beg him, even though there's no chance of him surviving, even though I'm about to die next.

The tears stream down my face as I watch Peeta die. I can hear Clove laughing behind me, but I don't care. I need to be by his side.

"K-k…Katniss," Peeta manages to gurgle as the flowers beneath him turn red.

I let out a scream of agony as he stills in my arms, and the cannon goes off.

Just like that, he's taken from me.

I whip around to see Clove rejoicing over my grief. I'm done crying for now. Seeing her smug face makes me so angry, I'm shaking. I let the fury wash over me, replacing the sadness, and take the knife out of Peeta's neck. Jumping up, I sprint towards Clove. Fear flickers across her face for one second, and then she's lunging towards me, too.

I swing the knife at her, but she dodges it. It's hopeless; I'm no match in my physical condition. Clove easily knocks me to the ground, and the knife falls out of my hand. The next thing I know, her knee is grinding into my left arm. I let out a scream of pain against my will, hating myself for succumbing so quickly.

Clove laughs cruelly.

"Do you see how absolutely hopeless _love_ is?" she says. "Love makes you weak."

What is she talking about? Oh wait, of course. She saw Peeta and me and consequently believes the love story that was spun in the Capitol. With my reaction, she must assume that I felt the same about him.

Well, I definitely liked Peeta, and I cared about him a great deal. He was a good friend and ally like Rue. I'm devastated that he's gone. But I never loved him.

How did it come to this? Only moments ago I was in his arms, and he was kissing me. Now he's lying dead in a bed of wildflowers, and it's my turn to face death. Somehow Clove found and caught us off-guard. I was pathetic with my stupid, useless arm, unable to defend Peeta, much less myself.

"How did you find me?" I snarl.

I thrash beneath her, but that causes even more pain to shoot into my left arm, and I cry out again.

"How did I, indeed?" Clove sneers at me. "Funny thing is, I wasn't planning on hunting you down until after we had finished District 11."

She wrinkles her nose in disgust.

"That wasn't my idea, of course, but you already know that," she continues.

I'm confused by what she means. How would I already know her plans? And then I realize she's referring to me hiding by the Cornucopia, which means she must have seen me. Did she know this whole time?

"If you knew I was watching you, why didn't you fight me right then and there?" I spit at her.

Her eyes glint dangerously, and she smirks, grazing my cheek with the serrated edge of her knife.

"I didn't know it then," she says. "We never suspected you. The three of us went after District 11, which I'm sure you saw from your little hiding spot. Well, after we found him, that idiot boy from District 3 tried to run off. Although I suppose that was a smart move on his part because we would have killed him afterwards anyway. So I went after him, since I knew Cato could handle District 11. We ended up back in the Cornucopia, where I finished him off, and guess what I found?"

She leans in until our noses are almost touching.

"An arrow," she breathes. "Pierced right through the flesh of District 5. I figured out then that _you_ were the one who destroyed the supplies. Great cover. You really had us fooled there. After that, I looked around the Cornucopia, and it didn't take me long to find your tracks."

That means that Cato isn't anywhere around. It sounds like Clove followed me of her own accord, while Cato fought Thresh. Though Clove insinuated that Cato would be fine, she hasn't confirmed that he did indeed kill Thresh, so I don't know if he's okay or where he is. I shouldn't even be worried about that right now, and yet somehow I am.

"Did Cato kill him?" I ask.

Clove cocks her head to the side and looks slightly amused.

"You two just don't know when to give up," Clove sighs. "Even when the odds are completely against you, you still hope. And to think that I actually thought Glimmer had dissuaded you."

Glimmer? Glimmer did tell me that Cato had sent her to kill me, that he didn't actually care about me. But Cato told me that Glimmer had worked alone. Besides, I didn't tell him about the other stuff that Glimmer said. So Clove couldn't know all that that unless she had been there.

Or unless she and Glimmer had planned it before hand.

"It was you!" I gasp, now realizing what Haymitch's message meant. All this time, Clove has been plotting against me. "You sent Glimmer-"

Clove shakes her head and interrupts me.

"Marvel convinced Glimmer to kill you. You see, Glimmer had a thing for Marvel," Clove says, pretending to gag. "Though I can't imagine why. She was so much prettier than him. And Marvel had a crush on me. I know, pathetic, right? For a while there, we had our own _love triangle_ going on, but by then you three had all the sponsors and attention. Anyway, I told Marvel to get Glimmer to kill you. I knew there was a chance she'd fail, but at least it couldn't be traced back to me. In the end, she didn't even incriminate Marvel, but who knows what her last words might have been."

I think back to Glimmer looking at Marvel pitifully. She tried to say something, and Marvel shook his head. He didn't want her to give him away. I also remember Clove's words. _You brought this upon yourself._ I thought she was referring to Glimmer's betrayal and so I always assumed Glimmer was working alone. That's what Cato had told me anyway. But now I know that Clove was speaking to Glimmer's failure. And all this time, I believed Clove was helping me with her warning. Quite the contrary, she was only trying to escape suspicion, and it worked.

Wait, Marvel. Clove said that Marvel had a "thing" for her. He did her dirty work. So does that mean that Clove sent Marvel to kill Rue, too?

"Rue…" I whisper, putting two and two together.

Clove's smirk widens into a full grin.

"I saw you look at your tree-hopping friend the first night," Clove whispers. "That's right. I noticed her, too. I thought about killing her, but then I realized I could do a lot more damage than that. When you went back to finish the job, I figured you had teamed up with her. I was the one who sent Marvel after her when Cato went looking for you. Marvel was too afraid to go after you. I suppose in the end he was right."

Now I wish I had a chance to speak to Marvel before he died. If I hadn't immediately killed him, maybe he would have told me all of this. After all, ultimately Clove used him as a pawn; she didn't care about his life. He probably realized this and could have confided in me. I almost feel pity for him and for Glimmer.

But they worked against me, and for that I don't regret their deaths.

"Her death was supposed to destroy you," Clove scowls. "But you weren't depressed for long enough. No, you had your lover boy here to cheer you up, and the two of you carried out that clever little plan."

She glances up at Peeta's body and back to me.

"Of course, you don't have him anymore," she laughs.

Clove's words are meant to hurt me, to make me cry. And while I am devastated by Peeta's death, I'm not about to let Clove see that. So instead, I'm further incensed.

I snarl again and spit in Clove's face, not caring if I appear like a crazed animal. Clove is the reason why Rue and Peeta are dead. She took away my allies, my friends, and now she's going to be the one who kills me. It's unbearable. Why couldn't I have died in the explosion? Or why couldn't Thresh have killed me? Anything would be better than Clove triumphing over me with that infuriating smirk of hers. I want nothing more than to put my hands around her little neck and strangle her. If I had Cato's strength, I'd just snap it. I don't even care about exacting revenge. I simply want her dead.

But Clove's not dumb like Glimmer. Though my spitting in her face irritates her, she doesn't release me when she wipes my saliva off with her right shoulder.

"So here we are," Clove taunts. "Lover boy's dead, and it's just you, Cato and me. I really wanted to be the one to kill you, to slice those pretty lips off your face. But then I thought, wouldn't it just be grand if Cato was the one who killed you? That would show you just how much of an idiot you are to believe that he actually cares about you. You will finally learn that there's no place for love in the Games."

As I feel the full force of Clove's words, I realize what her motives are, what they have always been, and why I have been her main target throughout the Games. Back in the Capitol, Clove glared at me and shot me scathing looks, less catty than Glimmer's, but more intense. I know she loathed me. And yet though my mind has been preoccupied ever since the Games began, I can't believe I let myself forget that. I actually thought Cato had gotten her to come around. She treated me as an equal, and I bought her act. I actually considered her my ally, as far as alliances in the Career pack go.

But all this time, she has always hated me. I am her worst enemy, her biggest threat to winning. She's plotted my demise since the very beginning, and I was too focused on Cato and Peeta to notice. I fell into my own love triangle, which somewhere along the line became real. And Clove is using that against me.

"Cato won't kill me," I grit between my teeth.

I don't know why I say that, but a part of me truly believes it. I saw Cato's reaction in the Cornucopia when he realized I wasn't dead. I watched him worry over me. I don't think he could kill me, not in cold blood like this.

At least I hope so.

"Oh, yes he will," Clove narrows her eyes dangerously.

She brutally crushes my left arm with her knee, causing me so much agony, I nearly faint from the pain. At some point during my bouts of screaming, she reaches for a rock. I try to block her with my arms, but to no avail. The last thing I see is her swinging the stone at my head, and then everything goes black.


	15. There There

A/N: Thanks to my reviewers, to those who have their PM feature disabled: **adeliefan14 **and **Tainted-Blossom**, and to my anonymous reviewers: **Klato**, **justafan**, **Mythgirl19**, **gleeislove**, **Juliette**, **Tessa**, **Eyrie**, **Lena**, **Tiara**, **Nel**, **saph**, **Hawkheart2**, **GB**, **Bee**, **Maggie**, **bubz**, **ShanzAngelMalfoyxxx**, **HGfan**, **Priscilla X. Silver**, **Kate**, **catokat**, **x **and **J**!

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><p><em>The last thing I see is her swinging the stone at my head, and then everything goes black.<em>

For once, I don't dream. My world is a black, mute slate where I see, hear and feel nothing. I am untouchable in the recesses of my mind. My head is clear, my thoughts wiped out by what? Something painful. Oh yes, the rock.

The memories immediately flood my mind. I remember Clove; I remember her cutting words when she revealed her cunning plans; I remember her excruciating triumph over me, and how I screamed in pain as she weakened my resolve; I remember Peeta dying from Clove's knife, the blood draining from his paper white face; I remember Rue's death, but more specifically Clove's role in it, in everything.

There has been so much death because of me.

No. I can't let myself drown in guilt again. Cato would tell me that this is Clove's fault, not mine. She chose to plot against me. She picked me as her enemy. I had nothing to do with it. But would any of this have happened if I hadn't joined the Careers in the first place? For all I know, Peeta and Rue would still be alive.

As reality comes crashing back down on me, I begin to feel a painful throbbing emanating from the side of my head. At least Clove didn't get the same spot on the back of my head from when I fell out of the tree. I'm not sure I would have woken up from another hit like that.

I try to get a feel for my surroundings without opening my eyes or moving an inch. I don't want Clove to know that I'm awake. She could certainly make my present situation even more unpleasant. After all, she does have a knack for that.

Intermittent pain shoots out from my arm, but I don't think she's done any more damage to it, besides further crushing the broken bone. At least the splint is still somewhat intact. In any case, my injuries matter very little if I'm going to die today.

I attempt to figure out if Clove moved me. I don't think she did, since I don't feel any scrapes or bumps. Besides, she's too small to drag me around the arena.

"I know you're awake," Clove's voice interrupts my reverie. "I would say that in the future, you should try to maintain slow breathing if you want to trick people into believing you're asleep, but you won't have any more opportunities to use my advice."

Damn her.

I consider ignoring Clove and keeping my eyelids shut. I know that would infuriate her. And somehow, even given my compromised state, I just want to be difficult to further annoy her.

But on the other hand I do want to know where I am and what her plans are for me. And I'm not entirely masochistic. I don't want to encourage another attack on my arm and other wounds I've sustained.

As far as what I already know, Clove obviously wants Cato to kill me. That much she made clear in her cliché rant against me. So I'm assuming we're waiting on him. I'll only find out for sure though by playing along because if there's one thing that's for certain, it's that Clove is a talker.

When I open my eyes, I'm blinded by sunlight, which is directly above us. I look around to see that I haven't moved much at all. We're in the same area, except Clove has taken the liberty of tying me to the trunk of a tree with the very rope I took from the Cornucopia, the rope I used for my splint. What an overkill. It's not like my injuries haven't already incapacitated me. And Clove must know that because she's only wrapped the rope tightly around my body with my arms to the side. If it weren't for my broken arm, I could easily reach behind me and undo the knot. And Clove is fully aware that I have limited mobility, though she insists on sitting next to me and watching my every move. How frustratingly helpless I've become.

Other than that, my surroundings are the same, except Peeta's body is now gone. Only the traces of his blood are left behind, forever staining the flowers. I have to blink to keep the tears at bay. I suppose Clove moved me so the hovercraft could swoop in and pick up his corpse. Well, I'm definitely not going anywhere anytime soon.

Gauging by the sun, not much time has passed – maybe an hour or two. Unless, of course, it's the following day, but I certainly don't feel like I've had twenty-four hours of rest. A few seconds is more like it. In any case, I wish I were still unconscious because then I could avoid interacting with Clove and be blissfully ignorant of this dark reality.

"You really outdid yourself," I say sarcastically. My dry throat causes my voice to crack. I'd ask Clove for water, but I'm guessing that's not a priority. "Broken arm, minor concussion _and_ you tied me to a tree? Jeez, don't put yourself in any danger."

Clove narrows her eyes at me, but to my surprise she lets out a nasty laugh.

"We all know how fond you are of running away," she retorts.

As if I could run away without these ropes. Clove would take me down in a heartbeat, or perhaps that is the point. She wants me alive so that Cato can be the one to kill me. This way she doesn't have to worry about me trying to escape.

"Only when psychotic girls send their puppets to try to kill me," I smile back.

I'm sure the Capitol is enjoying our battle of wits, or rather, witty dialogue.

This time Clove's laugh almost reaches her eyes.

"Good one," she smirks. "I do enjoy your sense of humor, but let's not forget how easily you crumble in the midst of pain. Your clever remarks won't save you. I sent a flare over an hour ago, and Cato will be here any minute."

Her biting remark does sting. She injured more than my arm and head when she tortured me to the point of screaming. She hurt my pride. I thought I was stronger than that, but what human could remain aloof under such pain? It's an idealistic, unrealistic notion.

At least she answered my last question. It looks like I don't have much time left. I'm not sure how to mentally prepare myself for my reunion with Cato. Will I beg him to spare me? I don't think I could do that even if I wanted to. My pride simply wouldn't allow it, wounded as it is. Will Clove tell Cato about my betrayal, namely my destruction of the supplies, to convince him to kill me? Most certainly. And she knows how awful I am at lying, so there's no chance of me successfully denying it. I can only pray that I will have time to spin him a story. Even then, it may not be good enough.

"Still think Cato's going to save you?" Clove taunts.

I'm not sure about anything anymore. I know that he wants to win as much as I do. Cato volunteered for this, and he won't walk home empty-handed. And yet I know another side to him. Though he is capable of cold-blooded murder, I can't see him looking me in the eye while plunging his sword into my heart. Of course, he could always kill me in a cowardly manner, not facing my direction. Unlike me, he has the luxury of choosing whether or not to confront me. And then there's the last resort – letting Clove finish the job. Needless to say, I dread that scenario more than anything. I would rather Cato kill me. Hell, I'd rather burn alive. But I'm sure it would come to that first because Cato isn't the kind of guy to give up. At least, that's what I'm banking on.

Cato is the only hope I have left, and Clove knows it.

"Cato came here to win," Clove says, despite my lack of response. "You know that. So he _will_ kill you."

I won't let her certainty shake me. This is out of my hands. The only course of action I have left is to accept my fate with whatever dignity I have left.

"And if he can't?" I ask, though I'm not really keen on hearing her answer.

Clove's upper lip curls into a sneer, marring what could otherwise be a pretty face. I really don't get what Marvel saw in her.

"If he's too weak, then I'll do it for him," Clove promises, just as I thought. "But I wouldn't bet on that."

I hear the rustling of leaves and thudding of footsteps before I hear his voice.

"Bet on what?" Cato asks as he emerges from the trees directly in front of me.

He freezes momentarily when he sees me, his eyes widening for the fraction of a second, and my heart too stops beating. I can tell by the look on his face that he wasn't expecting this, though it should have been obvious that we are the only ones left. Unfortunately, that cannon from earlier wasn't for me, but for Peeta.

His gaze then drifts towards Clove. Does he know of her plotting and scheming? Probably not, judging by what he told me in the woods about Glimmer working alone.

Though his step falters, he resumes walking towards us, acting as nonchalant as can be. But Clove's hawk-like presence assesses his every move and takes note of Cato's hesitation, however minor it may have been.

"Look what I caught," Clove grins, prodding my side with the pointy end of her knife.

Cato folds his arms and arches an eyebrow.

"I see," Cato says coolly. "So I presume that the boy is dead?"

Clove rolls her eyes and stands up, wiping both sides of her knife on her jacket.

"Your grasp of the obvious is inspiring," she says sardonically.

Now that we're the only three left, and I am in no position to win, Clove has no qualms about insulting Cato. After all, they are going to be this year's victors.

A dangerous glint, however, flickers across Cato's eyes. He doesn't appreciate her insolence, I'm sure of that.

Cato casually circles around Clove so that she's between me and him. I wonder if he's trying to get closer to me. Clove isn't having any of that, though. She maintains her stance next to me, watching Cato all the while like a studious cat.

"Good job," he says flatly.

I can't tell if he means it, but I don't see why he would care about Peeta's wellbeing. Back in the Capitol, Cato didn't seem particularly thrilled about promising me not to kill Peeta. Funnily enough, though, he kept his word. In the end, Cato never had to face Peeta, and Peeta never saw his death coming. I didn't either, for that matter.

"Who knows how long it might have taken if you had taken charge," Clove snorts. So she does realize that Cato has some reservations about killing me. That's encouraging. "Anyway, it doesn't matter anymore. We have the girl on fire. I even wrapped her up like a birthday gift for you. So what are you waiting for?"

Cato looks off to the side when he replies. I wonder if he's chosen to kill me and, for that very reason, is intentionally avoiding my gaze.

"You couldn't take care of her on your own?" he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Clove squints at him in disbelief, as if she can't comprehend his accusation. It's obvious to me, even, that Cato is stalling. He knows Clove could have done it, but was only waiting on him.

"Oh, I had many opportunities," she says angrily. "But I want you to do it. Or are you too afraid?"

She's good. I'll give her that. She's forcing his hand by calling him a coward, trying to corner Cato so that, in order to defend his honor, he has no choice other than to kill me. If I were in her position, I would do the same.

I'm taken aback by what he says next.

"I'm not killing her," Cato grits between his teeth.

My eyes widen at his open admission. He's not going to kill me? I don't believe it. He would oppose his ally, the girl from his own district, the one he is supposed to return with as victors for me? It isn't as if he can choose between us. He can only return with Clove. That's how the rule was set up.

I think back to my dream again about how Haymitch said that I had to choose, that we _both_ had to choose. Is this what he was referring to? But that was just a dream, a byproduct of my subconscious mind. There was no meaning to it.

Or maybe Cato is simply admitting that he cannot be the one to kill me. Would he then watch when Clove descends upon me with her knives or would he walk away?

Needless to say, Clove doesn't react well to his words. She raises her knife threateningly. The movement does not escape Cato's notice.

"Excuse me?" she snaps. "What is this, Cato? Don't tell me you've _fallen_ for her. She's District 12 scum. You're better than her."

Cato draws out his sword in response. I can see Clove's brow furrow in worry. She doesn't understand his sudden aggressive behavior. Of course, she should have never challenged him by raising her knife in the first place.

"You don't even know her," Cato snarls.

Clove involuntarily takes a step back, but she continues to berate Cato.

"No?" Clove laughs. "Well, I know that she's the one who destroyed the supplies. Or didn't she tell you?"

Cato's eyes flicker briefly to me. I can tell that he doesn't believe it, not for one moment. And how I wish it weren't true. It seems that my last homage to Rue is going to backfire on me and be my downfall.

"She wouldn't betray me like that," Cato declares.

I groan internally. Did he have to phrase it like that? Because whether I like it or not, the truth is coming out, and it will only go in Clove's favor. I'm going to look like the bad guy, when Clove's the one who has been manipulating us this entire time. I wish I could just tell Cato the truth about Clove, but then I'd appear crazy, as if I believed in wild conspiracy theories because Clove would undoubtedly deny every word I said.

"Is that so?" Clove gloats. "Why don't you tell him yourself, fire girl?"

Cato turns to me, and I can see the confusion in his eyes. I could deny it, but he would see right through me. So I better take advantage of this moment because I now have the chance to use one of the stories I came up with back at the Cornucopia. I'm prepared for this.

I take a deep breath and begin talking.

"I shot District 5 because she was trying to steal supplies from you," I say, catching myself from using my nickname for her.

I look Cato right in the eye when I say it and keep a straight face because only liars look off to the side. Besides, what I said is true; Foxface was attempting to take food.

"How could I have known that the supplies were wired with explosives?" I say.

Clove whips her head towards me, her face contorted in fury. It's as if she did not expect me to lie. Well, I'm not handing her victory to her. I'm not going down that easily. Eventually Cato will find out the truth about my involvement when he watches the replays, but I refuse to admit it here.

"Of course you knew. You were watching us the whole time," she spits. "Or do you deny that?"

Cato turns to me again, but I have to remain calm, even though I'm in the line of fire. Clove has lost her usual cool, and I can use that to my advantage. If I can make her look like a lunatic, I can perhaps turn the tables on her.

"When I arrived at the Cornucopia, there was no one there," I say, keeping my voice level. "If you recall, you're the one who sent Marvel to kill Rue, and I stayed behind to be with her. Cato can attest to that. So though this may come as a surprise to you, Clove, because you seem to be quite obsessed with me, my life doesn't revolve around you. I had neither the time nor the desire to spy on you."

Clove's eyes are bulging out of her skull, she's so indignant. I didn't know I had it in me to push her buttons like this. She must really hate me.

"She's lying, Cato," Clove turns to him.

But I can tell that I've convinced Cato. I've won him over from Clove.

"Her explanation is sound," Cato disagrees. "I believe her."

Clove lets out a scream of frustration and stomps on the ground like a child. In this instance, she does appear as the little girl that she is.

"It doesn't matter!" she shouts. "Need I remind you the rules of the game? In order for us to win, _she_ has to die."

"I don't care," Cato clenches his fists. "I'll say it again: I will not kill her."

"Then I'll do it for you!" Clove bares her teeth.

Clove draws her arm back and aims her knife at me. I stiffen and hold my breath; there's nothing I can do to escape it, what with me tied up against this tree. I'm utterly helpless and at their mercy.

But to my absolute astonishment, Cato lunges for Clove, who lets out a yelp of surprise. In that decisive moment, she chooses to protect herself and throws the knife at Cato instead. He's ready for it, though, and pivots his body. As familiar as we all are with each other's fighting techniques, he's able to fully dodge the blade.

But Clove carries several knives with her, and before the first knife hits the bark behind Cato, she has already drawn and released another.

Though Cato spins around again, this time he's unable to avoid it, and the blade lodges itself in his left shoulder blade.

He grunts in pain, but doesn't relent. With one more step, he closes the space between Clove and him and full on tackles her to the ground, knocking the air out of her.

He then grabs her face, crushing it with his monstrous hand. Clove squeaks shrilly, and I almost want to throw her words back at her. Look how _she_ is crumbling in the midst of pain.

"What are you doing!" she shrieks. "Don't be delusional, Cato! You can end this. Kill her, and you and I will return to our district as victors, the only two victors to win together in the history of the Hunger Games. You're making the biggest mistake of your life. _You can't be with her_!"

Cato growls and shakes her roughly, upset at her words.

"You forget that I don't need you alive. I can return just as easily without you," he snaps. "And you want to know something? You're a real bitch, Clove. You're the delusional one if you think that I would ever choose you over Katniss."

Cato's hand slides down to Clove's neck, and he begins to tighten his grip, strangling her.

"You don't… get… to choose," Clove gasps as Cato cuts off her air circulation.

"That's where you're wrong," I speak up.

Cato and Clove both turn their gazes towards me.

"We always have a choice," I continue as I look Clove right in the eye. "We just have to live with the consequences."

Though Clove shoots me a loathing glare, I can see that she realizes she's paying for her actions. Cunning as she is, Clove set up her own death by working against Cato and me. If only she hadn't been so manipulative, if only she hadn't focused all her efforts on taking me down, maybe Cato would have liked her as an ally and spared her.

But I'm sure that Cato and I will pay for our choices, too.

At least we are finally being true to ourselves. _If I'm going to die, I want to still be me_. I now understand what Peeta meant by that. I won't be adulterated by the Capitol and turned into the cold, heartless beast they want all of us to be. I won't kill Cato, just like he won't kill me. And as much as Peeta disliked Cato, I would like to think that he would be proud of me in this moment for doing what I want and not what the Capitol has decided for me.

Indeed, in our hearts, we made our decision. My dreams spoke the truth, even if my conscious mind didn't want to accept it at first. We could only ignore our feelings for so long. And yet all along, Cato and I had the freedom to choose what we wanted. Whether or not the Capitol agrees with us is another question. We just needed to take a leap of faith and resist what was put in front of us.

Well, better late than never.

Cato nods in agreement.

"From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were special," Cato says, looking at me as Clove's face turns blue. "Back during the Reaping, when you volunteered for your sister, I thought you would be my greatest enemy. I was wrong. You're a good person, Katniss - better than I'll ever be. Before I met you, I only knew how to kill, how to win. But you made me want something more."

My heart pounds inside my chest, and I'm sweating nervously. I'm afraid that Cato is going to profess his love for me and that this time it will be for real. I can see the burning desire in his eyes. And I've never felt this way before – anxious with butterflies in my stomach. I don't know how to react, not with the cameras trained on us. I think back to the interviews and how embarrassed I was then. It's different now; I'm jittery, but I'm not taken by surprise, and I actually feel something inside me - feelings for him.

"I never wanted to leave here without you," Cato says.

We lock eyes, paying no notice to the world around us. For all we know, we could be on top of a mountain or back home in our districts. We only have eyes for each other. And I would bet anything that our faces are plastered on every screen in Panem, the camera zooming in for a close-up. No one is watching the last remnants of life leave Clove, not even us. In the end, she didn't even matter.

"Then don't," I whisper.

Cato releases Clove's limp body without sparing her a second glance. I barely hear the cannon that confirms her meaningless death.

He rushes over to me and unties the ropes, freeing me from the tree. Before he helps me up, he leans in, and I tilt my head upwards. Our lips meet, and for the first time, I'm kissing him as fiercely as he kisses me. His arms wrap around me, as he gently lifts me to my feet. And despite the pain in my left arm and the throbbing in my head, all I can feel are his strong hands, warm breath and soft lips.

This is how our first kiss should have been.

As Cato rains kisses down my cheek and neck, I finally realize what my dream meant, what I understood all this time, but never fully acknowledged. Since the interviews, our audience wanted to see us really choose each other, to fight for our relationship, instead of having everything handed to us on a silver platter. The new rule was created for us to overcome. If we didn't, then our love wouldn't be perceived as real. Without the drama, all of this would mean nothing.

So when Claudius Templesmith's voice booms from the sky, announcing us as the winners of the 74th Hunger Games, I'm pleasantly surprised. In fact, I'm ecstatic. Cato and I actually have a chance at this. Did our audience truly pull through for a happy ending?

I suppose that, after all, a love story is what the Capitol wanted, and Cato and I aren't giving them anything less.


	16. Prove Yourself

A/N: Thank you everyone for the lovely reviews. I believe I've responded to most of them, except for my anonymous reviewers of course! So thank you to **Kate**, **RewindandFreeze**, **klauseu**, **Guest**, **India**, **mmmmmmhhhhhhhhhh**, **lexyrose**, **Anonymous**, **Liz**, **Riss**, **Violet**, **CatonissOTP**, **Ugottaluvit**, **Priscilla X. Silver**, **Jag**, **Y**, **bubz**, **silentxangel**, **Nighthawk**, **Peachyfull**, **Eyrie**, **Lena**, **Bee**, **Lola**, **Maggie**, **petrichor**, **OneLiner**, **MeggieDinosaur**, **noomsie**, **Am12325**.

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><p><em>I suppose that, after all, a love story is what the Capitol wanted, and Cato and I aren't giving them anything less.<em>

The hovercrafts swoop down, the blades in the propellers creating an overpowering wind. I instinctively bury my face into the crook of Cato's neck to avoid the debris, and his toned arms tighten around me.

The feeling of security suddenly vanishes when a pair of hands interrupts our embrace. A Peacekeeper tears me apart from Cato, and when my eyes flutter open, I can see another two Peacekeepers pulling Cato, one on each of his arms.

"Katniss!" Cato shouts as he fights with fervor, yanking away from the Peacekeepers' grips.

I scream his name back at him, but my words die in the wind.

Though Cato is stronger, he cannot win. One of the Peacekeepers tranquilizes him and soon after I feel something prick the side of my neck.

When I finally stir, I am acutely aware that my surroundings have drastically changed. I even feel different. I flex my left arm and realize there's no pain. There's the first difference.

I sit up; the palms of my hands rest on the cold, metal table beneath me – yet another change. I look around the sterile room and think how strange it is that I'm not in the arena, even though I know that this is supposed to be normalcy. I lift the sheet covering my naked body and discover I don't have any cuts or wounds anymore. I'm sparkling clean again, my skin one continuous smooth surface. Physically, it's as if the Games never happened.

And yet my thoughts are racing at the speed of light – where am I? What happened to Cato? Is he also lying on top of a metal slab, fully healed and washed? What is going to happen next?

I spot a neatly folded pile of clothes at the foot of the table and figure that, at least for now, it's the answer to my last question. I get dressed and, a few seconds later, a door I hadn't previously noticed slides open.

I walk gingerly into a deserted hallway. I'm worried about who or what I'll encounter. Are my victims waiting for me? I've had so many horrifying dreams that a small part of me is afraid that this is yet another nightmare.

I let out a breath of relief when I find out that isn't the case. Once I round the first corner, I spot Haymitch. Effie, and Cinna, weapon-free.

I can't help my reaction. At the sight of their comforting, familiar faces, I break into a run and nearly knock Haymitch over with a hug.

"Whoa there," he says, laughing as he pats me on the back. Then, whispering: "Good job, sweetheart."

Cinna and Effie embrace me next, each of them congratulating me in their own words. Cinna has a soft, somber voice, while Effie is a bubbling, bouncy mess. But I can tell that, though they're overjoyed to see me, there's a subdued sadness behind their eyes. I know without a doubt that they're thinking of Peeta. Suddenly, my thoughts turn to him, too.

"You're happy for me?" I ask quietly. Perhaps they would have preferred Peeta to win. He was a better person than I'll ever be. He deserved to go home. "Truly?"

I'm also afraid that Cato is another reason why they're not thrilled about my victory. I fear their disapproval of my actions, especially if they view him as an enemy.

"Katniss, you did the best that you could," Cinna says. "Don't blame yourself for Peeta's death."

Effie nods furiously, dabbing the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief. I'm not sure if the tears are for me or for Peeta.

"What Cinna means is, don't feel guilty about winning," Haymitch says. "This is what Peeta would have wanted."

But is this the outcome they wanted?

I know that Peeta would have sacrificed his life for me. Even then, though, a part of me thinks he wouldn't have wanted me to win like this.

"He wouldn't have wanted me to be with Cato," I voice my thoughts bitterly.

Haymitch and Cinna exchange looks. Do I detect a slight grimace from Haymitch?

"Peeta didn't care much for Cato. But if he knew that the only way for you to win was to be with Cato, he would have supported you," Haymitch says. "And we both know that you needed Cato to kill Clove."

In essence, Haymitch is saying that I couldn't have won on my own. And he's absolutely correct. As much as I resented the thought of allying with Cato before the Games, I ended up needing him and my other allies. I was helpless against Clove, who so cleverly hid her malicious intentions from me.

But did I really do everything in my power to save Peeta?

"All that matters is that you're here," Haymitch says.

Cinna nods.

Then why doesn't it feel that way?

"We always wanted you to win, and we will support you, no matter who you choose to be with," Cinna says.

My eyes tear up at their unconditional support, even if I may not necessarily deserve it. I feel as if a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Though I will never stop feeling remorseful for my victims, I can at least have a positive outlook on whatever comes next.

"You and Cato convinced the Capitol to let you both live. That's a tremendous feat," Haymitch says. "Now let's focus on the interviews, where you'll have your reunion with Cato."

My heart drops at his last sentence.

The interviews. How could I forget? I realize with horror that Cato will find out the truth about the destruction of the supplies during the replays. Everyone else already knows I lied – everyone except Cato. And he will feel humiliated when he's the last person to find out.

Suddenly, my outlook doesn't seem so positive anymore.

When Cato and I reunite on stage with Caesar, the crowd's roars seem louder than from the last time I was here. Of course, throughout the Games these people have grown a lot more attached to us. Their obsession had just begun in those first interviews. It's hard to imagine what their lives must be like, to be so absorbed in ours.

"Katniss," Cato whispers in my ear as he holds me, his hands caressing my face.

I rest against his chest silently, knowing my voice would fail me if I were to respond. I do feel the same security in his arms as I did in the Games, but there's a sense of dread as well for our impending public confrontation.

I'm shaky and nervous when I sit down in the loveseat next to Cato, though I try my best to mask it. Cato doesn't notice, or if he does, he probably attributes it to stage fear. Fortunately, Cato holds me protectively, so I can keep my sweaty hands in my lap.

Caesar gets the ball rolling quickly and begins telling our story from the very beginning – Reaping Day.

It's a romance exaggerated a thousand times over, but to everyone in Panem, it's real.

I suppose I can't speak for Cato, who has been unarguably interested in me since the Reaping. However, I doubt he's as smitten as Caesar portrays him. He must have viewed me as an enemy at first. He didn't even know me back then.

And yet how can I know the depth of his feelings for me when I barely know mine? Yes, we like and care about each other, as underwhelming as that sounds. But here Caesar is, describing our love as if we have known each other our whole lives, when in reality I don't know the first thing about love. Though Gale is my best friend, I never gave boys a second thought before Cato. For that reason, I have to put on somewhat of an act. Otherwise, my clear lack of experience would weaken our story.

I wonder if Cato has to pretend, too.

My heart beats faster and faster as we get closer to the moment of truth. I'm terrified of Cato's reaction, but more specifically of this one little lie ruining our relationship, or whatever it is that we have.

"Is there anything you want to say to Cato before we play this next clip?" Caesar asks solemnly, and the crowd falls silent.

Cato looks at me curiously.

I'm surprised that Caesar is even giving me this opportunity. This is my one chance to mitigate damage, to convince Cato – and everyone else – of my unwavering loyalty. This is the moment of truth.

"I lied to you when I said I didn't destroy the supplies," I say bluntly because I know that's how Cato would want to receive the news. He isn't one to beat around the bush. "But I lied for us. I was afraid that Clove would have successfully manipulated you, and then I wouldn't have had the chance to explain myself. But I want to explain myself now."

My heart sinks when I feel Cato stiffen next to me. He isn't taking this well. Caesar, on the other hand, nods empathetically, urging me to continue.

"I did it for Rue," I say, forcing my voice to sound strong. At the same time, I have to choose my words carefully now, so as not to appear against the Capitol. Cato isn't the only one I have to appease. "She was my ally and friend, and I didn't want her to have died in vain. On her death bed, I made her a promise."

To my surprise, I can hear murmurs of sympathy in the audience. It's hard to believe that Rue's death had any kind of effect on them besides raw entertainment. Somehow, they and Caesar seem to understand my motives. But they are not what matters most to me.

I warily peer at Cato to gauge his response.

"You were afraid," Cato says calmly, as he rubs my arm gently. He leans forward and plants a kiss on my head so that I can't read his facial expression. "How could I be upset at you for that?"

The crowd coos at Cato's display of affection. Even Caesar is beaming. I'm the only one who isn't sure how to feel about this. Cato is an enigma, and I can't tell what he's truly thinking.

"Katniss is quite lucky to have a forgiving gentleman for a boyfriend," Caesar says. I don't know how he does it – making Cato, one of the most prolific killers in the Games, look like a chivalrous suitor. But then again, I'm being portrayed as a love-struck damsel, when I'm a murderer, too. "But it's hard to believe you're not the least bit upset."

That's exactly what I'm thinking. I can't tell what's really going on in Cato's mind, but of course I'm not going to ask for or get the truth here. I'm pretty sure that Cato is putting on a façade so that everyone will maintain their belief in our love story. So I certainly do not expect Cato to reveal anything in his answer to Caesar.

"My love for Katniss is unconditional," Cato declares. "It doesn't matter if she didn't tell the truth at the time. She told the truth just now."

A happy hum emanates from the audience. Everyone is pleased with Cato's response, though it sounds forced to me. I do, however, feel as if we've dodged a bullet. It's important that we convince our viewers. I can, and most likely will, deal with Cato's wrath later.

Caesar adds that I was under a lot of pressure and wasn't thinking straight, further supporting Cato's forgiveness. I try my best to appear contrite, conceding that both his and Cato's points are true.

With that, Caesar continues on with the rest of our story, and I'm able to breathe again. I'm the princess in distress; Cato is my knight in shining armor; and Clove is the wicked witch. The crowd boos her even when she appears on the screen, but I'm sure she must have had some fans with her streak of cruelty.

After Caesar is done showing the replays, he asks some general questions. Though he tries to pry into our love life, which in my opinion has barely begun, I'm able to relax some.

But not for long.

I can't believe Haymitch, Cinna, Effie, Portia, Enobaria and the rest of Cato's crew allow Cato to whisk me off into an empty dressing room after the interviews. It's as if before the interviews they discussed and decided on our private confrontation being the best solution. And if we were trying to create a nuclear explosion, I would have agreed with them. But they're out of their minds if they think it's a good idea for Cato and me to be in the same room right now. We did, after all, just come out of the most violent game that exists.

"You lied to me," Cato says angrily after he slams the door shut.

He clenches his fists, the fury seeping out after he so carefully remained calm during his viewing of the replays. The audience may have bought his act, but it's apparent now that Cato was not as forgiving as he appeared.

"You didn't give me much of a choice," I snap back. "You had to go and announce to Clove, in front of the cameras mind you, that I would never betray you. What was I supposed to say?"

I don't know why the words tumble out of my mouth that way, making me sound defensive instead of apologetic. I've never been good with confrontations – not with Peeta, and certainly not with Cato.

At the thought of Peeta, I immediately feel a surge of guilt. I wonder, with shame, if I'm dishonoring his memory by choosing to be with Cato.

"You shouldn't have 'betrayed' me in the first place," Cato growls.

I can't help but roll my eyes at his self-centered response. Again, I find myself fueling the fire instead of putting it out.

"I didn't destroy the supplies for you," I reply. "I did it to fulfill my promise to Rue. Or don't you remember? You lead Marvel straight to her. She died because of you."

Cato's eyes narrow dangerously. I bite my lip, knowing that I've gone too far. Cato never meant to hurt Rue – Clove did. And yet I'm taking my pent up frustration and anger out on Cato because he's the only target I've got. Yes, I killed Marvel, and Cato killed Clove for me. But I haven't fully healed yet. In fact, my mind has only begun to register the events of the past several days.

"I'm not going to respond to that because you and I both know I wasn't responsible for her death," Cato takes a deep breath. I'm stunned by his reaction, or lack thereof. He's really trying to maintain his composure. Is he doing this for me? "Just tell me this – was everything you said in the arena a lie?"

His question takes me aback, but I am infinitely more confused by the expression on his face. Cato looks strangely vulnerable. And here I was expecting him to explode on me. I don't understand this turn in the conversation.

Then I realize that there's more beneath the anger. There's fear. He's afraid that, if I was capable of lying to him about destroying the supplies, that I may have also lied about my feelings for him.

Suddenly, I can see everything from his perspective. I've always been a survivalist, not a romantic. If I were in Cato's shoes, I would have reason to believe I was lying. Seeing this side of Cato melts all my frustration away. I feel bad for not anticipating how deeply I may have wounded him. This isn't just about the destruction of the supplies. It's about us.

"I only told one lie," I say softly.

Cato steps towards me. I have to stop myself from flinching. Thankfully, he doesn't notice. It's not that I think Cato would deliberately harm me. I do trust him now. My reaction is simply remnant from the Games, a reflex I'm afraid won't easily disappear.

He grasps my wrists roughly and pulls me in for a kiss, the rest of his anger dissipating into passion. I'm glad to see that, though we're both quick to fight, we're also quick to make up.

When Cato pulls back, we're both breathing heavily, and I feel a tingling sensation, like butterflies in my stomach.

"So we can focus on us now," he says with a crooked smile.

I'm confused by his words, however. We just fixed the problem. And what are we doing, but focusing on us?

"What do you mean?" I ask, bewildered.

Cato raises an eyebrow, evidently surprised that I'm not on the same page as him.

"Obviously we need to figure out what we're going to do now that the Games are over," he says slowly, as if he's talking to a five-year-old.

Oh. I suppose he has a point there. Why hasn't this crossed my mind before? I've been so preoccupied with the present that I haven't given the future any thought.

"Well, we have the victory tour," I say.

Apart from getting to spend more time with Cato, I'm not looking forward to visiting the other districts. It won't be easy facing the families of the tributes I killed, of which there are many, though I'm sure it will be even more difficult for them.

"And after that?" Cato presses.

I look off to the side, unsure how to answer Cato's question. I don't even know what's in the realm of possibilities right now. It all depends on what the Capitol will allow in terms of visitation. Now that I think about it, I've never heard of people visiting other districts, with the exception of the victory tour.

"I think you should move to my district," Cato says firmly, jumping to an idea I hadn't even considered. "If they let us both win, they'll let you and your family move to District 2, I'm sure of it."

His suggestion takes me aback. Right now Cato sounds a lot more like how Caesar portrayed him. Of course, I notice how he's only saying that I should move to his district and not the other way around.

"Who said anything about moving?" I say incredulously, not ready for a change as serious as this. "I'm not leaving my home."

My blood boils at what Cato says next.

"Well, there's no way in hell I'm living in District 12," Cato says scornfully.

Though I know I shouldn't expect anything more from Cato, I'm appalled by his tactless, selfish command. How dare he assume that I'm some kind of complacent housewife? I thought I had won his respect in the Games. My announcement of my feelings for him shouldn't change that.

And his comment about my district was completely uncalled for. District 12 may not be as technologically advanced as District 2, and we may lack most luxuries, but it's my home. How can he ask me to leave everything I've ever known? I have Prim and my mother to take care of. I have my best friend Gale. Sure, Cato's the first boy I've ever liked romantically or kissed, but I've only known him for a few weeks. I'm not ready for this.

But I'm not sure how to tell him all of this, and I'm afraid he wouldn't understand me even if I did. Besides, I'm in no mood to speak to him reasonably.

"I never asked you to," I say acidly.

Before Cato has a chance to respond, I open the door and slam it behind me.

When I relay our argument to Haymitch, Cinna, and Effie during dinner, Haymitch and Cinna exchange knowing looks, while Effie protests how much nicer District 2 would be for me and my family.

"I probably shouldn't tell you this until after the victory tour, but Cato is right, though for the wrong reasons," Haymitch says. "You and your family are going to have to move to District 2."

I drop my fork at his declaration.

First Cato and now Haymitch? I can understand Effie's response – she's never liked District 12. But I sure hope Cato didn't put Haymitch up to this, not that I think Haymitch could be bullied by even the likes of Cato.

"Over my dead body!" I snap, slamming my hand on the table and ignoring Effie's dramatic gasp.

"You may very well get your wish," Haymitch says sarcastically.

Cinna intervenes, his soft voice changing the tone of the conversation.

"We've heard some alarming rumors," Cinna says quietly. "We think Snow only let the two of you live because he wants you to move to District 2, which as you know is the most loyal district to the Capitol."

"What does Snow care about where I live," I say irritably, not quite believing these ridiculous rumors, even if they're coming from Cinna.

Haymitch leans forward with his elbows on the table.

"You may not realize what your actions in the Games have caused – in particular your alliance with Rue. But know this: A rebellion is rising," Haymitch says in a low voice. "Right now you're teetering on a dangerous ledge. You can either be the face of that rebellion or you can show your loyalty to the Capitol. So what will it be, sweetheart?"


	17. Give Up the Ghost

A/N: Thanks everyone for your continuous support! It seemed like a lot of you want a sequel, so I decided to continue this story. I'm sorry it took me so long to write this chapter. Work/life has been crazy, and I've been working on some original stuff. When I came back to this fic, I had to spend a lot of time thinking through the plot, as it will deviate much more from the second book. That being said, please let me know what you think - do you hate the direction I'm taking? Is anyone OOC? The more feedback, the better my writing will be. Or, if this chapter is really horrible, I can take it down and revert the story back to the original epilogue. I will say that this chapter is more dialogue-heavy. I wanted to focus on character / relationship development. All the other chapters have had so much action and plot that this is a nice breather.

Now, without further ado...

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><p><em>"You may not realize what your actions in the Games have caused – in particular your alliance with Rue. But know this: A rebellion is rising," Haymitch says in a low voice. "Right now you're teetering on a dangerous ledge. You can either be the face of that rebellion or you can show your loyalty to the Capitol. So what will it be, sweetheart?"<em>

Haymitch's words stun me into silence. A rebellion? My loyalty to the Capitol? I don't know where these words are stemming from. All I ever did was try to survive. Now, I'm somehow caught between two sides, which up until now I didn't even know existed. How long was I in the arena? I feel as if suddenly everything has changed.

What's more is that I'm appalled by either prospect. Of course, I loathe the Capitol. I wouldn't _be_ in this position if it weren't for the Capitol. I can't imagine faking loyalty, and I certainly can't stand the thought of living in District 2. But I'm not going to risk the lives of Prim, Gale, and my mother for a rising rebellion either. Historically, rebellions have not gone well for the rebels. Having barely survived the Hunger Games, I would know.

Cinna spots the look of horror on my face.

"You don't have to answer Haymitch's question right now," he says. He's gentle with me, even though I should have thicker skin after what I went through. "Snow won't expect you to move until after the Victory Tour. You'll have months at home to give this some thought."

Haymitch snorts and shoots Cinna a disdainful look. Clearly, he doesn't agree.

"That's what _you_ believe," Haymitch says. "Katniss may very well be reunited with that boy before then. Snow will want their relationship to progress quickly."

I don't like the way he uses the word "progress," as if everything between Cato and I has been carefully planned. Snow may be plotting something sinister, but what happened in the Games was real.

"The point is, we don't know what's going to happen or when," Cinna says calmly. Not even Haymitch can test his nerves. "We just want you to be prepared to make a decision when the time comes."

"And that time may come sooner than you'd like," Haymitch adds.

Effie shifts in her seat, visibly uncomfortable with the subject of rebellion. I don't blame her. She doesn't want to get in trouble. Neither do I.

"Enough of this talk. Obviously, Katniss will do what's best for her and her family and move to District 2," Effie says nervously. Then, turning to me: "In the meantime, however, you'll be living in the Victor's Village. Have you thought about what color home you'd like? Well, there aren't as many choices in District 12, but the eggshell blue is _lovely_ and quite in style…"

For once, I'm grateful for Effie's chatter. I even listen and respond, trying to distract myself from my thoughts. _What on earth is eggshell blue?_

Unfortunately, the distraction doesn't last long enough. With full bellies, everyone retires for the evening, and I'm left to toss and turn in my bed.

I wonder what my mother and Prim will want to do. They'd be eager to move to District 2, I'm sure. Life would be more luxurious – plentiful food, safer jobs, and nicer homes. Prim might be homesick at first, but she would easily make friends. Though most of the kids are probably aggressive like Cato and Clove, there's bound to be a couple of normal ones. My mother, on the other hand, hasn't cared about company for years. The only person she misses is my father.

My mind then turns to Gale. The Gale I know wouldn't want me to move to District 2, even if my family would live more comfortably. But I'm not sure that he feels the same way about me anymore. After what Gale witnessed in the Games, I'm afraid of seeing him again. I can picture his disappointment, his anger at my alliance with Cato. I cringe at the thought of him watching our "tender" moments. Yes, Gale wanted me to win, but in his eyes, did I change too much?

I barely sleep that night, too anxious about returning to District 12. I worry about how my mother and Prim will act towards me, if they'll fear me. I worry about what Gale will say to me. I worry if people in District 12 will call me a traitor. I worry that they'll think I'm a murderer instead of a hunter. I even worry about the Victory Tour, though it's several months away. In fact, I'm almost as nervous as I was the night before the Games.

Indeed, when I wake up in a sweat, for a moment I forget where I am or when it is. I feel as if I'm back in the arena. I then notice the pillows underneath my head and realize that I'm done – it's over; I'm taking a train home today.

Strangely enough, I'm not comforted by that thought.

I'm sure Victors are generally ecstatic the next morning, as well as for the rest of their lives. At the very least, they're relieved. Breakfast is a somber affair for me, however. I have to say my goodbyes to Cinna, and I don't want to part ways with him again so soon. I never imagined that I would bond so closely to someone from the Capitol. And yet Cinna is a better person than most I know back home.

"We'll keep in touch," Cinna smiles, trying to cheer me up. "Effie and Haymitch have my number."

I completely forgot that I'll have a phone. It's weird enough owning a house.

"They'll have to teach me how to use the phone," I say with a grimace.

"What, they didn't cover that during training?" Cinna jokes. Then, more seriously: "After what you've been through, using a phone will be a piece of cake."

Cinna underestimates my inability to learn technology. I'm much better at destroying it, as he and everyone else in Panem recently witnessed.

"Maybe, but I'd rather have the cake," I grumble.

Cinna laughs at that. He promises that we'll see each other soon, at least for the Victory Tour. I nod silently. His words are meant to comfort. However, after we embrace, I'm left with a feeling of emptiness.

As I board the train, Haymitch and Effie are nowhere to be seen. I'm sure Haymitch is drinking himself to a stupor in his room. Effie is most likely touching up her make-up or fixing her hair. I sigh to myself. I already miss Cinna.

I sit by myself in the dining cart, brooding over what's to come. Suddenly, an unexpected voice interrupts my reverie.

"Hey."

I look to my right and am surprised when Cato sidles up next to me. _What?_ I blurt the first thought in my mind.

"What are you doing here?" I ask incredulously.

We took different trains here, so I assumed we'd take separate trains home. After all, our districts are nowhere near each other. But I suppose there have never been two Victors, much less ones from different districts. Maybe they only had a single train prepared. I doubt that, though. The Capitol always runs everything smoothly, especially when it comes to the Hunger Games. Could this be part of Snow's plan to make our relationship "progress"?

"Still upset from yesterday?" Cato says. I detect a note of irritation.

To be honest, I haven't thought about our fight since Haymitch and Cinna informed me of Snow's plans at dinner last night. It's the least of my concerns.

"No, I just didn't think we'd be taking the same train," I say honestly.

Cato nods.

"Yeah, me either. Enobaria was saying that we're only together for a little bit and then we switch trains," he says. He clears his throat. "So…you aren't mad?"

I barely listen to Cato as my eyes scan the cart for Enobaria. Thankfully, she's nowhere to be seen. I have reason to be wary of her and, more importantly, her gold teeth. Enobaria must be furious that I won the Games with Cato and not Clove. She could try to rip my throat out with those fangs of hers when I'm sleeping.

I shake my head, reminding myself that we're not in the Games, and Enobaria isn't out to kill me. Also, doesn't Snow want me to move to District 2? Or would it be easier for him if I were killed…

"What? Oh. I said I wasn't mad," I reply. The words tumble out of my mouth more curtly than I intend them to. I can tell Cato doesn't buy it. "I…have a lot on my mind."

"Like what?" Cato asks.

_There's apparently a rebellion rising, and I have to move to your district so Snow doesn't have my mother and sister slaughtered_, I think to myself.

"Well, we are going home today," I say instead. I resist the urge to roll my eyes at Cato. He's acting as if there couldn't possibly be anything on our minds.

Naturally, Cato doesn't understand my concern.

"You have plenty of celebrations to look forward to. You've brought honor to your district," Cato shrugs.

I should have known that's how Cato would view matters. District 2 will undoubtedly have many celebrations, since it's the richest in all of Panem. There won't be any in mine, however. People are either working in the mines or starving. No one has time to celebrate, and even if they did, they wouldn't find anything honorable about me winning the Games. We don't forget that the Games are a punishment, a sick form of control.

"Maybe that's what happens in your district. I'm not sure what'll happen in mine, though," I sigh.

"What do you mean?" Cato asks, confused.

For once, I'm not in the mood to argue with him.

"People aren't really into the Games in my district," I say.

"You can say that again," Cato mumbles under his breath.

I glare at him. He doesn't make it easy to play nice.

"What? It's true," Cato says defensively. "You're different."

"That's the point," I say, annoyed. "I'm afraid my mother and sister will think I'm a monster."

Cato stares at me curiously like he's trying to comprehend how anyone could see me as a monster. District 2 must really be as they say – the Capitol's loyal dog. They actually believe that participating in the Hunger Games is an honor and that winning brings glory. Normal people consider the Games torture and murderers monsters.

"I watched your Reaping. Trust me, they wanted you to win," Cato says with confidence. "And they knew what it would take."

That may be, but my mother and Prim definitely weren't prepared to see me on the big screen, killing other tributes. That's, of course, an impossible concept to explain to Cato.

Still, I'm surprised that he's making an effort to understand and comfort me. It reminds me of our conversation in the Cornucopia when he made me hot chocolate. I told him why I didn't enjoy killing, and he told me why he did. We tried to understand each other and actually had a civil conversation. Yet, during our fight yesterday, Cato was being his usual hot-tempered self. I like this Cato more.

"I'm also not sure what people will think of…us," I say truthfully. I don't know what _I_ think of us. "Most folks hate your district."

"Most _districts_ are jealous of us," Cato agrees, misunderstanding me. "Katniss, my people mourn Clove. They're angry that I chose you over her. But I don't care about their opinion. I'm the Victor. They are nothing. It doesn't matter what your people think."

I bristle at Cato's air of superiority. The fact that his entire district wants me dead also makes me feel slightly sick. I can add that to my long list of reasons why I don't want to move to District 2.

"Just because you're a Victor doesn't mean you're better than others," I reply. "And it matters to me what my friends think."

Or friend, I should say.

"If they're truly your friends, they will understand," Cato says, ignoring my first comment. "Like your mother and sister, they should be glad that you are returning to them alive."

I hadn't thought of that. Before I left for the Capitol, everyone, including myself, acted as if I'd been handed a death sentence. They just wanted me to live – to survive. And it didn't stop there. Even after the Games, Haymitch, Cinna, and Effie were happy for me. They were able to forgive me for failing Peeta. Surely my family and Gale can do the same?

"I guess that makes sense," I say slowly.

"If anything, your district doesn't make sense," Cato scoffs. "They should be worshipping you for what you've done for them. District 12 will be showered with prizes and gifts. And, because of you, future tributes could be invited to join the Careers."

"Because of you," I correct him. The alliance wasn't my idea.

"I simply made the proposal. You were the one who almost didn't accept," Cato smirks.

If it weren't for Haymitch, I definitely would not have accepted. I don't say that, though.

"And rightly so. You told me not to worry about Glimmer and Clove," I remind him.

"I also told you I'd keep them in line, which I did," Cato retorts.

He didn't keep them in line; he killed them.

Cato reaches for my hand.

"Together, we were undefeatable," Cato says. "I knew you would be perfect by my side."

At those words, I recoil, retracting my hand as if his touch burns me. I can't believe it. He revels in our victory, while I wallow in guilt.

"You were undefeatable. _I_ wasn't," I say bitterly. "I failed Rue and Peeta. They died because I was at your side."

Cato narrows his eyes and clenches his hand into a fist. I've hit a nerve.

"I told you I had nothing to do with their deaths. You can't save everyone, Katniss, not in the Games. If you hadn't allied with me, do you really think either one of them would have made it? You and I were the only ones capable of winning," Cato says harshly.

Perhaps he's right, and I'm suffering from survivor's guilt.

"It doesn't make me feel any less guilty," I say.

Cato slams his fist onto the table. I flinch, not expecting his outburst. So much for civility.

"You gave them more than they deserved!" Cato snarls. "Without you, they wouldn't have lasted as long as they did. Why do you care about them? They were weak. They had no place in the Games. You're so attached to them, but the only one you even knew from before the Reaping was Peeta, and you didn't love him."

His words sting because they're true. I immediately hate myself for thinking that. And yet… I didn't love Peeta. And I know that the girl from District 4, Rue, and Peeta would not have made it far without my advice, supplies, or medicine.

But I still cared about them.

"So why do you care about me? Because I'm a winner?" I snap, my temper flaring.

Cato looks abashed.

"No, of course not," he says.

I cut him off before he can continue.

"Do you remember what you told me in the arena? You said that before you met me you only knew how to kill and win. But I made you want something more," I say, my voice trembling with emotion. "What did you mean by that exactly? Because as far as I can tell, you still only care about _killing_ and _winning_."

Something flashes in Cato's eyes. Hurt? No, it can't be. After what he said, Cato is every bit the monster I thought he was. Maybe there was mutual respect in the Games, but we're out of the arena.

"I care about you," he says.

"Because I can kill and win," I say. "But those aren't real reasons. You want to know why I cared about Rue? She reminded me of my sister Prim. She was so young and small. She was innocent. And while the rest of you viewed her as a target to kill, I could only think of protecting her."

"I didn't want her dead," Cato protests.

"Why? Because she wasn't a challenge?" I say, thinking back to Cato's comments about the girl from District 4.

"You don't understand what it's like where I'm from," Cato says defensively. "All we're taught is to win the Games, to fight for our district."

"I do understand. All your life you've trained for the Games," I say. "But do you know what it's like for people in my district? Most don't know how they're going to find their next meal. We don't have the time or energy to prepare for the Games. Why do you think we have so few victors?"

"But you won," he states.

"I told you already. I'm a hunter," I say. "I was taught to survive, not to win. In the Games, it happens to be that surviving is winning."

Cato lets out a bark of laughter, but there's no humor in his eyes. He grabs my wrist and leans in until our foreheads are almost touching.

"Oh, you're just a _hunter_ who was trying to _survive_," he mocks me.

"Let go of me," I spit, pulling my arm back.

It's no use. Cato jerks me roughly towards him.

"I'm tired of your bullshit, Katniss," he hisses. "You convinced yourself I was out to get you in the Games and made all those excuses to leave. But what really happened? I saved your life – twice. Now, you're pretending that you're different from me, that you're a victim."

"I'm _not_ like you. I don't enjoy killing," I interrupt.

Cato's grip tightens. I have to grit my teeth to withstand the pain.

"Liar," he breathes. "I watched you during the bloodbath. You _liked_ taking down those four tributes. You didn't have to kill all of them. The rest of us could have handled it."

I fall silent at Cato's accusations. He's right; I killed more tributes than I needed to. I fell into my hunter mindset when I let that first arrow loose. All of a sudden, the tributes around me turned into prey like the deer back home. But did I enjoy killing them? No, of course not. The sight of them suffering made me sick.

"I had to prove myself to the rest of the group," I argue, though even I can hear the weakness in my voice.

"Another _excuse_," Cato says. He yanks my arm again. "What were you trying to prove when you shot the redhead from District 5? You didn't have an audience. You could have let her go and then shot the landmines. You killed her because you _wanted_ to."

I don't have a response to that – or as Cato would say, an excuse.

"What do you want me to say? That you've proven that I'm a monster like you?" I say in a hollow, defeated voice.

Cato's expression darkens.

"Killing doesn't make you a monster. It makes you human. I want you to accept that you're a killer, and stop living a lie," he says.

Cato tilts my head upwards with his free hand, and his lips descend on mine. I don't reciprocate the kiss, but I don't fight him either. Cato brushes his lips across my shoulder, murmuring into my ear.

"I want you to stop resisting me, Katniss," he says. "You and I are more alike than you think."

For once, I'm afraid that's true.


End file.
